Wednesday, March 12, 2008
(Yeah, ok, icky title. But I don't do cute, they're supposed to help me find stuff later. I don't want to use tags, because tags lead to more search engine hits, and I don't particularly want that.)
I have always paid off my credit card balances in full every month. The past nine months or so, however, I've been using the cards for more (taxes, insurance, etc.), and someone told me that it's actually better for my credit rating to carry a balance, so I've been paying off half or two-thirds of the balance every month. The cost balanced out with my money market account, so it was ok.
Recently, the money market has tanked. So earlier this month I decided to pay off the credit card totals from the money market account.
Much excitement!
The banks have panicked.
They're afraid I'm on the verge of closing the accounts, and are making all kinds of inducement offers, including stuff like blank checks I can write with 0% interest for three months. I'm tempted to write an enormous check or two, invest the money, and in three months pay it back and keep the interest earned.
Howcome for all those years that I always paid off every month, no one tried to woo me?
----------------------
A year or two ago, I wrote a post about how hospice had told me to flush Jay's rather powerful and controlled meds after he died, and how I reacted in horror because we all have septic tanks and wells around here, and I didn't want to put them into the groundwater. I was also concerned that older city sewer treatment plants (who do not include reverse osmosis) can't remove pharmaceuticals, and they don't test for them in the water they release, and I think it's becoming a more serious problem than people realize.
Well, guess what's in the news lately. Nobody has a solution, either.
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I need to register some disclaimers for my post on the "Ugly American" women. The fake-looking red hair adorns no one I know personally. I know a few redheads who do color their hair, but they all look reasonable. The red I described does not occur in nature. The first time I saw that particular color was in 1997, in France, where it seemed like one out of every three women had it. It's a very hard, brittle looking color. Jay and I referred to it as "French whore-head red". It's not very common in the US, or at least not in the venues I frequent.
And I know two women who have a nose stud, but they're both graceful, polite, and don't overwhelm a room with noise. Their studs are beauty marks. On the service station woman, it gave the impression of a bovine nose ring.
So no hackles, please.
-----------------------
Now I *am* going to pick on someone. She sometimes attends the dinners, and I always feel a sinking feeling when I see her at the table. She's perhaps late 50s, very nice, sweet, harmless. Soft innocent smiling face. But she drives me crazy with the way she speaks.
"...and then, uh, I tried to, tried to figure out what the, uh, buttons on the, uh, on the side were for, uh, and I thought maybe if I, if I pressed them in, uh, sequence, uh, maybe I could, maybe I could get some, uh, some sound out, uh, if they, if they, uh, worked that way, but, uh, ...."
That is not an exaggeration.
She has a tiny high-pitched little-girl voice, and she talks relatively fast, and sounds breathless, a quick intake breath after every "uh". Even that wouldn't be so bad, all the "uh"s and repetitions in a high voice, but she talks constantly! She goes on and on and on with no pauses. With all the "uh"s and run-on sentences, there's no chance for someone else to get a word in. No one else at the table can talk at all unless they're willing to interrupt and talk over her.
She did mention last evening, in the context of wanting to learn bagpipe, that she has some kind of lung problem, so that may explain all the "uh"s. Small lung capacity? And maybe the run-on sentences and the repetition is because if she doesn't, she gets interrupted when she has to take a breath, and it's a defensive habit?
Ok. Believe it or not, I started this very annoyed with her, and worked out the above while writing this. So maybe I won't be so annoyed next time. BUT, she still talks too much! She needs to let someone else say something occasionally. Sheesh. Her monologues sound like my blog entries!
---------------------
I bought a Garmin GPS unit online from Costco, for my car. The box arrived last Friday. I opened it before the UPS guy had left the driveway, and saw inside several plastic packages containing the "acessories pack" I had ordered, and the smaller cubical box for the device.
A few minutes later, I opened the smaller box. It contained more accessories, in plastic bags - some, like the USB cable and a power cable, repeats of the accessories pack. Duh? No GPS device. No instruction book.
I called Costco. They said they'd have UPS come out and take the box and contents, and that I'd eventually get a charge-back on my card. They wanted me to immediately reorder another device. I didn't want to, because that would put both on my card at once, and what if they didn't refund me? Now I realize that looks bad, because if I'm ripping them off, I wouldn't want to order another. I'm not sure what I should do. I will eventually order another, but if I don't get the refund from Costco, I don't want to order another from them....
The UPS guy came this morning, and he agrees with me that the second set of accessories in the smaller box looks like the device was stolen at the warehouse. The extra stuff may have been put in to make the weight look right. I don't know what that means as far as a refund goes. Who do I get it from, and how long will it take? It was $100 off the usual price, and that goes only until March 31, so I'll want to reorder before then.
And, that's my week so far.
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Wednesday, March 12, 2008
1724 Musical Transformers
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
I haven't paid much attention to the rock genre of popular music since the early 90s. It seemed to me that the object had become simply to make loud noise. Drummers had become either mechanical or maniacal. No one sang any more, they shouted. I figure that if your shoulders relax and drop when the "music" ends, it isn't music. It's just noise.
I discovered a year or two ago that I sort of like a lot of the Grateful Dead. That surprised me. Driving home from dinner last night I heard something on the radio that I really liked. The music was intricate, and the musicians really knew what they were doing. A lot of talent there. The vocal part was a bit loud and hoarse-throaty, verging on shouting, but it was still singing, there was an actual melody, and if the guy had relaxed a bit, he would have been pretty good. I really like both the guitar and drums.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered it was Metallica, "Wherever I May Roam".
Me? Metallica?
So when I got home, I searched YouTube for the video, and rediscovered my other complaint. I don't like the violence inherent in so much of this music, or at least in the performances. If I turn my back on the screen, if I hear but not see it, I like it. If I watch the performance, I dislike it.
Odd, eh?
Well, here it is. The first is accompanied by photos, not a performance. Even if you don't like the music, you have to admit there's real, admirable, talent there.
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=REDddORqjxI]
And here's a video with performance, same selection. It starts out ok, but as it goes on and the energy goes up, I feel more and more negative. Anyone else have the same reaction?
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g_8bixXnEDY]
.
I haven't paid much attention to the rock genre of popular music since the early 90s. It seemed to me that the object had become simply to make loud noise. Drummers had become either mechanical or maniacal. No one sang any more, they shouted. I figure that if your shoulders relax and drop when the "music" ends, it isn't music. It's just noise.
I discovered a year or two ago that I sort of like a lot of the Grateful Dead. That surprised me. Driving home from dinner last night I heard something on the radio that I really liked. The music was intricate, and the musicians really knew what they were doing. A lot of talent there. The vocal part was a bit loud and hoarse-throaty, verging on shouting, but it was still singing, there was an actual melody, and if the guy had relaxed a bit, he would have been pretty good. I really like both the guitar and drums.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered it was Metallica, "Wherever I May Roam".
Me? Metallica?
So when I got home, I searched YouTube for the video, and rediscovered my other complaint. I don't like the violence inherent in so much of this music, or at least in the performances. If I turn my back on the screen, if I hear but not see it, I like it. If I watch the performance, I dislike it.
Odd, eh?
Well, here it is. The first is accompanied by photos, not a performance. Even if you don't like the music, you have to admit there's real, admirable, talent there.
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=REDddORqjxI]
And here's a video with performance, same selection. It starts out ok, but as it goes on and the energy goes up, I feel more and more negative. Anyone else have the same reaction?
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g_8bixXnEDY]
.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
1723 Freak
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
I have fibromyalgia. It's not formally diagnosed because it's not something that can be cured or treated, so there's no point in having it on my record, but I do have eight of the sensitive points, and I have pain somewhere all the time. I also have a very high pain threshold - that "knuckle the sternum" thing to check for consciousness doesn't work on me, for example, and when my gall bladder went west, I didn't know there was anything wrong until I started throwing up coffee grounds. (Translation: blood.)
Anyway, I have something a little weird, and I don't know if it's common or not. If it's not common, I wonder if it's related to the fibro.
I found an ingrown hair on the outside of my left thigh this morning, and I was poking and pinching at it, and I didn't feel the pinch in my thigh. I felt it on the outside of my left bicep. I often sense a surface pain on my lower body as on the upper body, and vice versa. Like the nerves are messed up. The brain interprets a surface pain on the thigh as coming from the arm, and then I semi-consciously remap it to the proper place on the thigh. This is normal for me, and I've never really questioned it.
IS this common, normal? Do you ever, often?, feel a pinch far distant from where the pinch really is?
------------------------
Gov. Spitzer has been caught in a prostitution scandal. His legal problem is not with the misdemeanor visits, but with the felony act of moving money around to hide the payments.
I'm having some trouble understanding that. It's a felony to move money around? He moved money from his personal accounts to a holding company for the prostitution company, which may have had some "tax implications". That's the part I don't understand. Don't the taxes still get paid, one way or another? I'm going to have to follow this.
The visits to prostitutes is a public relations problem. My opinion on that? Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.
A lot of the blather is about how so many men in positions of influence and power seem to have sex scandals that take them down. People with
--- break ---
I had to run off mid-sentence. I looked at the clock and it was 5:15 pm. I had to leave the house by 5:30 to meet some friends for dinner, grand opening of a Thai restaurant, and I was sitting here in my PJs, unwashed and uncombed (yeah, at 5 pm, wanna make something of it? Benefits of retirement! I earned it! Shuddup!) Darn daylight savings time. My internal clock is all messed up.
--- end of break, 10 pm ---
So where was I? People with a lot to lose seem to do stupid things they know will hurt them if they're found out, and yet they do it. And the blatherers seem surprised by that.
I'm not, for several reasons.
The neighbor next door might be cheating on his wife with the secretary (or intern), but the big difference is that he doesn't have reporters and everybody else in the world following him around and poking into everything looking for dirt. Nobody cares. Spitzer turned up on a list of clients of the prostitutes. If neighbor John turned up on the list, no one would care, and we'd likely never hear about it. And there are a lot of Johns out there. A lot of men do exactly the same things that have taken down politicians and preachers lately. They escape scrutiny and vilification because, frankly, no one cares.
So that's one reason why. Scrutiny.
A second reason is that you don't acquire power by playing it safe. Powerful people take risks. Risk takers go for it. They did. Some of them took the risk and lost. You can bet your patooty that there are a lot more powerful people out there taking the same risk, and they will often be the loudest in condemning the guy who got caught. (Monicagate springs to mind.) They're not condemning him for what naughty thing he did --- they are condemning him for getting caught.
That's another reason why. Risk taking.
Third, the more powerful men get more women. At least they're supposed to. That's deep in the brain from cave days. More women, more breeding opportunities, more progeny. Otherwise, why work so hard and risk so much? It's animal nature. So a powerful man, deep in the dark recesses of his brain, thinks he deserves the reward. A powerful man also has more temptation thrown at him. That's why so many of them have serial wives, and/or get caught in embarrassing sexual escapades.
That's a third reason. A desire to collect the rewards.
--- Flash! On TV news this very minute, an analyst has said that Ms. Clinton's "as far as I know" (that something was not so) was a slip, and an admission of guilt! Oh, come on! "As far as I know" means that "I don't know that what you said is true, it may be true, but I know nothing about it". She's a lawyer! If she doesn't know that something is not true, then she CAN'T say "It's not true", because she doesn't know that. All she can truthfully say is "As far as I know, it is not true." Good Grief, people! There are very few things any of us know with certainty.
Am I going to have to stop watching the news again? End of flash ---
.
I have fibromyalgia. It's not formally diagnosed because it's not something that can be cured or treated, so there's no point in having it on my record, but I do have eight of the sensitive points, and I have pain somewhere all the time. I also have a very high pain threshold - that "knuckle the sternum" thing to check for consciousness doesn't work on me, for example, and when my gall bladder went west, I didn't know there was anything wrong until I started throwing up coffee grounds. (Translation: blood.)
Anyway, I have something a little weird, and I don't know if it's common or not. If it's not common, I wonder if it's related to the fibro.
I found an ingrown hair on the outside of my left thigh this morning, and I was poking and pinching at it, and I didn't feel the pinch in my thigh. I felt it on the outside of my left bicep. I often sense a surface pain on my lower body as on the upper body, and vice versa. Like the nerves are messed up. The brain interprets a surface pain on the thigh as coming from the arm, and then I semi-consciously remap it to the proper place on the thigh. This is normal for me, and I've never really questioned it.
IS this common, normal? Do you ever, often?, feel a pinch far distant from where the pinch really is?
------------------------
Gov. Spitzer has been caught in a prostitution scandal. His legal problem is not with the misdemeanor visits, but with the felony act of moving money around to hide the payments.
I'm having some trouble understanding that. It's a felony to move money around? He moved money from his personal accounts to a holding company for the prostitution company, which may have had some "tax implications". That's the part I don't understand. Don't the taxes still get paid, one way or another? I'm going to have to follow this.
The visits to prostitutes is a public relations problem. My opinion on that? Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.
A lot of the blather is about how so many men in positions of influence and power seem to have sex scandals that take them down. People with
--- break ---
I had to run off mid-sentence. I looked at the clock and it was 5:15 pm. I had to leave the house by 5:30 to meet some friends for dinner, grand opening of a Thai restaurant, and I was sitting here in my PJs, unwashed and uncombed (yeah, at 5 pm, wanna make something of it? Benefits of retirement! I earned it! Shuddup!) Darn daylight savings time. My internal clock is all messed up.
--- end of break, 10 pm ---
So where was I? People with a lot to lose seem to do stupid things they know will hurt them if they're found out, and yet they do it. And the blatherers seem surprised by that.
I'm not, for several reasons.
The neighbor next door might be cheating on his wife with the secretary (or intern), but the big difference is that he doesn't have reporters and everybody else in the world following him around and poking into everything looking for dirt. Nobody cares. Spitzer turned up on a list of clients of the prostitutes. If neighbor John turned up on the list, no one would care, and we'd likely never hear about it. And there are a lot of Johns out there. A lot of men do exactly the same things that have taken down politicians and preachers lately. They escape scrutiny and vilification because, frankly, no one cares.
So that's one reason why. Scrutiny.
A second reason is that you don't acquire power by playing it safe. Powerful people take risks. Risk takers go for it. They did. Some of them took the risk and lost. You can bet your patooty that there are a lot more powerful people out there taking the same risk, and they will often be the loudest in condemning the guy who got caught. (Monicagate springs to mind.) They're not condemning him for what naughty thing he did --- they are condemning him for getting caught.
That's another reason why. Risk taking.
Third, the more powerful men get more women. At least they're supposed to. That's deep in the brain from cave days. More women, more breeding opportunities, more progeny. Otherwise, why work so hard and risk so much? It's animal nature. So a powerful man, deep in the dark recesses of his brain, thinks he deserves the reward. A powerful man also has more temptation thrown at him. That's why so many of them have serial wives, and/or get caught in embarrassing sexual escapades.
That's a third reason. A desire to collect the rewards.
--- Flash! On TV news this very minute, an analyst has said that Ms. Clinton's "as far as I know" (that something was not so) was a slip, and an admission of guilt! Oh, come on! "As far as I know" means that "I don't know that what you said is true, it may be true, but I know nothing about it". She's a lawyer! If she doesn't know that something is not true, then she CAN'T say "It's not true", because she doesn't know that. All she can truthfully say is "As far as I know, it is not true." Good Grief, people! There are very few things any of us know with certainty.
Am I going to have to stop watching the news again? End of flash ---
.
1722 Faint of Heart
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Shreve, over there at "The Daily Coyote", has a post today about giving Charlie the coyote a deer heart. (By the way, I highly recommend her blog about Charlie. Her photos are beautiful. If you go there, be aware that the diary is several months behind, so the story is now from last fall.) She cautions readers that if they are faint of heart, they should read no further.
I offer the same caution here. You may want to skip this entry.
Beef heart was one of my grandmother's specialties.
That was in the '50s, when one bought meat at a butcher shop, and it was absolutely fresh. The butcher often, uh, see, this is where the first faint part is, butchered the animals himself that morning.
Gramma would put in her order, and when the butcher had a fresh-that-morning beef or veal heart, he'd call her. She'd pick up the heart and a quart of fresh blood. The blood had to be absolutely fresh.
How to prepare beef heart:
It was wonderful. If you're a carnivore, anyway. Or a vampire.
As late as the early '70s it was still possible to get a fresh heart and blood, so I have cooked it myself a few times, but it's been some 30+ years since. I miss it. Hearts these days go into hot dogs and dog food, I guess. I suppose during hunting season it's still possible to get venison heart, but I don't know if it would taste the same, and it's definitely not the same without the blood gravy.
Gee. Organ meat is high in cholesterol. I wonder if that's why that side of my family almost all died of strokes.
.
Shreve, over there at "The Daily Coyote", has a post today about giving Charlie the coyote a deer heart. (By the way, I highly recommend her blog about Charlie. Her photos are beautiful. If you go there, be aware that the diary is several months behind, so the story is now from last fall.) She cautions readers that if they are faint of heart, they should read no further.
I offer the same caution here. You may want to skip this entry.
Beef heart was one of my grandmother's specialties.
That was in the '50s, when one bought meat at a butcher shop, and it was absolutely fresh. The butcher often, uh, see, this is where the first faint part is, butchered the animals himself that morning.
Gramma would put in her order, and when the butcher had a fresh-that-morning beef or veal heart, he'd call her. She'd pick up the heart and a quart of fresh blood. The blood had to be absolutely fresh.
How to prepare beef heart:
- Remove any covering tissues. With a very sharp thin knife, cut out all the major blood vessels. They tend to be tough. Going in through the blood vessel openings, cut out any internal valves.
- Make a stuffing of chopped carrots, turnips, parsnips, onions, leeks, and celery, and a little bread or oatmeal. Season with various herbs, and stuff the heart through the vessel openings.
- Sprinkle with salt and pepper, and roast it slowly.
- Make gravy with the blood and a little stock and flour. This is the richest most flavorful gravy in the world.
- Slice, and serve.
It was wonderful. If you're a carnivore, anyway. Or a vampire.
As late as the early '70s it was still possible to get a fresh heart and blood, so I have cooked it myself a few times, but it's been some 30+ years since. I miss it. Hearts these days go into hot dogs and dog food, I guess. I suppose during hunting season it's still possible to get venison heart, but I don't know if it would taste the same, and it's definitely not the same without the blood gravy.
Gee. Organ meat is high in cholesterol. I wonder if that's why that side of my family almost all died of strokes.
.
Monday, March 10, 2008
1721 A Winning Weekend
Monday, March 10, 2008
Visited NJ this past weekend. I drove south through a raging downpour on Saturday. It was a nice weekend. On Saturday night we went to a karaoke bar where he was unknown, and they had a competition which he kept saying he didn't want to be in, but ended up winning anyway. Apparently competition is usual at that place, and many of the contestants were very good. Yeah, he's that good. Anywhere he's ever sung (as far as I know, anyway) they always love him.
We also watched "Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back" while sitting in a hot Jacuzzi. The only way to watch a movie!
Sunday we met Daughter for a long late lunch, and he helped her with her resume and gave her some very good interview coaching. She's trying to make another career transition, and she's terribly over-educated for the kind of thing she wants to go into.
There were a lot of coincidences again. The karaoke bar turned out to be a place very near Daughter's home, and I had been there several times with them for dinner. When I tried to give Daughter directions to the hotel on Sunday (a least a half hour from her home), she said she already knew where it was - it was literally next door to SIL Hercules's office building.
I returned today. Everybody's very tired.
.
Visited NJ this past weekend. I drove south through a raging downpour on Saturday. It was a nice weekend. On Saturday night we went to a karaoke bar where he was unknown, and they had a competition which he kept saying he didn't want to be in, but ended up winning anyway. Apparently competition is usual at that place, and many of the contestants were very good. Yeah, he's that good. Anywhere he's ever sung (as far as I know, anyway) they always love him.
We also watched "Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back" while sitting in a hot Jacuzzi. The only way to watch a movie!
Sunday we met Daughter for a long late lunch, and he helped her with her resume and gave her some very good interview coaching. She's trying to make another career transition, and she's terribly over-educated for the kind of thing she wants to go into.
There were a lot of coincidences again. The karaoke bar turned out to be a place very near Daughter's home, and I had been there several times with them for dinner. When I tried to give Daughter directions to the hotel on Sunday (a least a half hour from her home), she said she already knew where it was - it was literally next door to SIL Hercules's office building.
I returned today. Everybody's very tired.
.
Friday, March 07, 2008
1720 Big Red
Friday, March 7, 2008
I was exposed to one of those women today. The kind I think of as the Ugly Americans.
I took Susy to the service station this afternoon to get her oil changed and all her fluids and pressures checked. I was the only person in the waiting room, sipping my tea and reading my book, when a woman in perhaps her mid to late 40s, her mother, and two teenaged sons slammed the door open and whirled in. Seriously, it was like a hurricane had arrived. The boys were quiet, but the woman and her mother were LOUD!!! It was like they wanted the entire neighborhood to hear everything they said, and they commented on and argued about everything.
The younger of the two women was loud in appearance, too. That brilliant dark red hair that screams fake, a diamond stud in the side of her nose. She wasn't necessarily fat, but she was large, seemed to fill the small room, moved in large gestures, and emphasized her bulk with a down parka. She didn't shut up for the 20 minutes we shared the room. She was hurting my ears.
I wanted to turn to her and ask, "Why are you so loud?"
These are the kind of American women I kept running into in Europe. The ones who made me want to be Canadian.
.
I was exposed to one of those women today. The kind I think of as the Ugly Americans.
I took Susy to the service station this afternoon to get her oil changed and all her fluids and pressures checked. I was the only person in the waiting room, sipping my tea and reading my book, when a woman in perhaps her mid to late 40s, her mother, and two teenaged sons slammed the door open and whirled in. Seriously, it was like a hurricane had arrived. The boys were quiet, but the woman and her mother were LOUD!!! It was like they wanted the entire neighborhood to hear everything they said, and they commented on and argued about everything.
The younger of the two women was loud in appearance, too. That brilliant dark red hair that screams fake, a diamond stud in the side of her nose. She wasn't necessarily fat, but she was large, seemed to fill the small room, moved in large gestures, and emphasized her bulk with a down parka. She didn't shut up for the 20 minutes we shared the room. She was hurting my ears.
I wanted to turn to her and ask, "Why are you so loud?"
These are the kind of American women I kept running into in Europe. The ones who made me want to be Canadian.
.
1719 Gravel
Friday, March 7, 2008
Gravel. The snowbanks left lining the roads are beginning to melt, and they are turning black. They're half gravel.
When there's ice, the county spreads a salt-gravel mixture on the roads, then the plows come by and push it all to the sides. Later traffic scatters the rest to the sides. Along about the middle of May, the county sends around a sweeper to sweep the roads clean of gravel. Maybe in the village, where there are curbs to confine the gravel, this is effective, but out here, by the time the sweeper comes, there's nothing left on the road. It's all in our lawns, for about three or four feet in.
Here it's not such a big problem for me personally because where my yard meets the road is either driveway or steep rocky bank, so the gravel just builds up at the bottom of the bank. The only problem is that when it builds up in front of the mailbox I have to shovel it away, or the mailbox ends up too low to meet requirements.
Where I used to live before moving in with Jay, my lawn was flat, and the buildup of salty gravel, several inches thick, killed my grass close to the road, and when I mowed the lawn, thrown gravel peppered my legs. A leaf blower won't move it. I think the only thing that might work is a shop vacuum.
Oddly, I never hear anyone else complain about it.
.
Gravel. The snowbanks left lining the roads are beginning to melt, and they are turning black. They're half gravel.
When there's ice, the county spreads a salt-gravel mixture on the roads, then the plows come by and push it all to the sides. Later traffic scatters the rest to the sides. Along about the middle of May, the county sends around a sweeper to sweep the roads clean of gravel. Maybe in the village, where there are curbs to confine the gravel, this is effective, but out here, by the time the sweeper comes, there's nothing left on the road. It's all in our lawns, for about three or four feet in.
Here it's not such a big problem for me personally because where my yard meets the road is either driveway or steep rocky bank, so the gravel just builds up at the bottom of the bank. The only problem is that when it builds up in front of the mailbox I have to shovel it away, or the mailbox ends up too low to meet requirements.
Where I used to live before moving in with Jay, my lawn was flat, and the buildup of salty gravel, several inches thick, killed my grass close to the road, and when I mowed the lawn, thrown gravel peppered my legs. A leaf blower won't move it. I think the only thing that might work is a shop vacuum.
Oddly, I never hear anyone else complain about it.
.
1718 Maybe Katie?
Somebody is visiting from the eastern time zone via their Google toolbar (or something googly). Who? Confess, or I'll have to get all researchy on you!
.
.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
1717 Domestic
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Earlier this evening while wandering around YouTube looking for Tracy Chapman songs, I found this one, "Behind the Wall". It's on my album, but I almost always skip it because it bothers me.
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2g2M2RvCwfc&NR=1]
I grew up listening to screams behind the wall, and often hearing my own as if they came from far away.
Later, when I was 20 and first living on my own, and thought I was finally away from it, there was a single woman in her late thirties living upstairs over my apartment. I guess she had a boyfriend who visited, I never actually saw him, but somebody beat the crap out of her once or twice a week. I'd hear him shouting, and her screaming and crying and begging, and things crashing.
I would huddle with my cat, curled in a tight ball, shaking. I wouldn't sleep that night. I knew from personal experience that calling the police would do no good. That was 1965-66, when men had a virtual right to beat women they "owned".
I never met her. I passed her in the hall only a few times. She was covered with bruises in a variety of colors, and she would never meet my eyes. I lived there only eighteen months, but I still wonder what eventually happened to her.
.
Earlier this evening while wandering around YouTube looking for Tracy Chapman songs, I found this one, "Behind the Wall". It's on my album, but I almost always skip it because it bothers me.
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2g2M2RvCwfc&NR=1]
I grew up listening to screams behind the wall, and often hearing my own as if they came from far away.
Later, when I was 20 and first living on my own, and thought I was finally away from it, there was a single woman in her late thirties living upstairs over my apartment. I guess she had a boyfriend who visited, I never actually saw him, but somebody beat the crap out of her once or twice a week. I'd hear him shouting, and her screaming and crying and begging, and things crashing.
I would huddle with my cat, curled in a tight ball, shaking. I wouldn't sleep that night. I knew from personal experience that calling the police would do no good. That was 1965-66, when men had a virtual right to beat women they "owned".
I never met her. I passed her in the hall only a few times. She was covered with bruises in a variety of colors, and she would never meet my eyes. I lived there only eighteen months, but I still wonder what eventually happened to her.
.
1716 In Love with the Vision
Thursday, March 6, 2008
As you get older, you get wiser in some areas, and stupider in others. Or maybe not more stupid, just better at fooling yourself.
I have long believed that when men fall in love, it's not so much the woman herself that they fall in love with as the way they feel when they're with her, most likely strong and capable. Of course that's a trap, because at some point some condition is going to arise where he feels inadequate. Maybe that's why marriages often don't survive breast cancer.
I think women often fall in love not so much with the man, but with the vision of what they imagine life would be like with him. And that's a trap, because eventually real life intrudes on the vision.
I guess it's hard to tell, when you fall in love, whether it's the other person you love, or the trap. You probably don't know until it's over, because you convince yourself that it's the person.
Jay had abandonment issues. Some things had happened in his childhood that made him afraid that no one would care for him. He had bad dreams of his mother walking off and turning a corner and disappearing, or driving off in the car and leaving him stranded in the middle of nowhere. He was unhappy in his previous marriage because his wife pretty much lived her own life, she didn't much "do" for him. She had pretty much emotionally abandoned him. So I know that much of his love for me came from his knowing that I would care for him and not abandon him. I mothered him, and that's exactly what he needed.
Did I love him, or the vision? Well, any rosy vision was pretty much destroyed by the brain cancer diagnosis, but I still loved him just as much, so yeah, I think it was just him.
And Roman, the Roman of all the 2005 and 2006 fuss and furor? It was the vision. I was tired of being alone, and here was someone who liked a lot of the same things I did, wanted to travel, challenged my mind, and would be a good companion for the remainder of my years. Of course I liked him a lot, too, but it really was mainly the vision I was tied up in. It wasn't until I gave up on having that vision that I realized that although I do like him a lot, still, as a person, we really aren't suited as a couple.
Now I'm in love with another. (I tease him that women see him as a "fast car", after the Tracy Chapman song (see below), thinking that he'll take them out of a life they don't like and make it all better, and when he doesn't, they get mad.) I'm pretty sure it's him, not the vision that has me hooked, because, frankly, I have no vision of a future with him. I just can't see it. He's a workaholic, and nowhere near retirement, has no desire for world travel (unless the Vikings happen to play in France), vastly prefers city living, and on and on. I just don't see it. What we want from life is so different. So I'm pretty sure it's HIM that keeps me coming back for more, not the vision of a future together.
I don't know why he loves me. Of course he says it's the brains, the thoughtfulness, my itty-bittiness, and my independence, and so on, but I know I also make him feel very strong and masculine, and I'm smart enough to fully appreciate his brainpower. I don't know if it's me he loves, or the way I make him feel.
Why does it matter? Because if it's me, I can say or do or be any way consistent with me, and he'll still love me. If it's only the way I make him feel that he loves, that's REAL easy to lose. A wrong word could kill it.
-----------------------------------------
And now, for your listening pleasure, Tracy Chapman's "Fast Car".
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Orv_F2HV4gk&feature=related]
And just 'cause I love her, here's another favorite:
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjRo_CHSdt0&feature=related]
.
Free advice: Never take out a loan to buy something depreciable.
--------------------------
As you get older, you get wiser in some areas, and stupider in others. Or maybe not more stupid, just better at fooling yourself.
I have long believed that when men fall in love, it's not so much the woman herself that they fall in love with as the way they feel when they're with her, most likely strong and capable. Of course that's a trap, because at some point some condition is going to arise where he feels inadequate. Maybe that's why marriages often don't survive breast cancer.
I think women often fall in love not so much with the man, but with the vision of what they imagine life would be like with him. And that's a trap, because eventually real life intrudes on the vision.
I guess it's hard to tell, when you fall in love, whether it's the other person you love, or the trap. You probably don't know until it's over, because you convince yourself that it's the person.
Jay had abandonment issues. Some things had happened in his childhood that made him afraid that no one would care for him. He had bad dreams of his mother walking off and turning a corner and disappearing, or driving off in the car and leaving him stranded in the middle of nowhere. He was unhappy in his previous marriage because his wife pretty much lived her own life, she didn't much "do" for him. She had pretty much emotionally abandoned him. So I know that much of his love for me came from his knowing that I would care for him and not abandon him. I mothered him, and that's exactly what he needed.
Did I love him, or the vision? Well, any rosy vision was pretty much destroyed by the brain cancer diagnosis, but I still loved him just as much, so yeah, I think it was just him.
And Roman, the Roman of all the 2005 and 2006 fuss and furor? It was the vision. I was tired of being alone, and here was someone who liked a lot of the same things I did, wanted to travel, challenged my mind, and would be a good companion for the remainder of my years. Of course I liked him a lot, too, but it really was mainly the vision I was tied up in. It wasn't until I gave up on having that vision that I realized that although I do like him a lot, still, as a person, we really aren't suited as a couple.
Now I'm in love with another. (I tease him that women see him as a "fast car", after the Tracy Chapman song (see below), thinking that he'll take them out of a life they don't like and make it all better, and when he doesn't, they get mad.) I'm pretty sure it's him, not the vision that has me hooked, because, frankly, I have no vision of a future with him. I just can't see it. He's a workaholic, and nowhere near retirement, has no desire for world travel (unless the Vikings happen to play in France), vastly prefers city living, and on and on. I just don't see it. What we want from life is so different. So I'm pretty sure it's HIM that keeps me coming back for more, not the vision of a future together.
I don't know why he loves me. Of course he says it's the brains, the thoughtfulness, my itty-bittiness, and my independence, and so on, but I know I also make him feel very strong and masculine, and I'm smart enough to fully appreciate his brainpower. I don't know if it's me he loves, or the way I make him feel.
Why does it matter? Because if it's me, I can say or do or be any way consistent with me, and he'll still love me. If it's only the way I make him feel that he loves, that's REAL easy to lose. A wrong word could kill it.
-----------------------------------------
And now, for your listening pleasure, Tracy Chapman's "Fast Car".
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Orv_F2HV4gk&feature=related]
And just 'cause I love her, here's another favorite:
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjRo_CHSdt0&feature=related]
.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
1715 The Silk Pyjamas Do It
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
I have admitted unusual taste in men. For one, I find Morgan Freeman sexy. I was gratified to hear a woman on TV today, when asked what would make her happy, answer, "Morgan Freeman in silk pyjamas feeding me chili cheese fries." The lady has taste. Well, maybe not the chili cheese part.
.
I have admitted unusual taste in men. For one, I find Morgan Freeman sexy. I was gratified to hear a woman on TV today, when asked what would make her happy, answer, "Morgan Freeman in silk pyjamas feeding me chili cheese fries." The lady has taste. Well, maybe not the chili cheese part.
.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
1714 Bathing Suits
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Becs has an amusing post about wrestling a bathing suit into submission. I can sympathise. I had a dress once that grabbed me around the chest and wouldn't let go.
I have completely given up on regular bathing suits. I don't know why, but they just don't fit me, even when I can get separate tops and bottoms - that just means I have two parts that don't feel right. There's always either some part that is too tight and wants to creep someplace it doesn't belong and creates bulges, or too loose and I feel floppy.
I have discovered something that works better for me - a leotard with a mesh middle. Sugar Petals sells them (see http://www.sugarpetals.com/leotards.asp). The sleeveless tanks work fine. They have full bottom coverage, and enough power to hold everything in, even in the middle mesh, and the mesh makes it look like a two-piece, so they're sexy, too. I have one in black and one in tan. I can't wear the tan in public, though. From more than a few feet away I look naked. Not that there's anything wrong with that....
(I wear them without a bra, the fronts are lined and thick enough, but Sugar Petals also sells bra forms that you can tuck inside.)
.
Becs has an amusing post about wrestling a bathing suit into submission. I can sympathise. I had a dress once that grabbed me around the chest and wouldn't let go.
I have completely given up on regular bathing suits. I don't know why, but they just don't fit me, even when I can get separate tops and bottoms - that just means I have two parts that don't feel right. There's always either some part that is too tight and wants to creep someplace it doesn't belong and creates bulges, or too loose and I feel floppy.
I have discovered something that works better for me - a leotard with a mesh middle. Sugar Petals sells them (see http://www.sugarpetals.com/leotards.asp). The sleeveless tanks work fine. They have full bottom coverage, and enough power to hold everything in, even in the middle mesh, and the mesh makes it look like a two-piece, so they're sexy, too. I have one in black and one in tan. I can't wear the tan in public, though. From more than a few feet away I look naked. Not that there's anything wrong with that....
(I wear them without a bra, the fronts are lined and thick enough, but Sugar Petals also sells bra forms that you can tuck inside.)
.
Monday, March 03, 2008
1713 Sewing
Monday, March 3, 2008
I spent the day trying to find the bedroom rocking chair. It's buried under a 4' stack of sewing. My neck and back killing me now, from peering over the top of my glasses to rip seams, and from hunching over the sewing machine.
Way back in the mists of time, when I first graduated from college and started teaching, my very first purchase was a used sewing machine. I made all of my clothes (except underwear), curtains, bed coverings, slipcovers, pillow covers, etc., and I knitted or crocheted all my sweaters. (BTW - I hated knitting sweaters in sections and sewing them together. I used to rewrite patterns so I could do them all in one piece on circular needles. No seams.)
That used sewing machine served me well for almost 30 years.
Now, I buy everything, but almost all my clothing still needs altering - hemming, taking in here, letting out there. If anything has wrist cuffs, I have to take the cuffs off, shorten the sleeves, and then put the cuffs back on.
My own mother didn't know how to thread a needle. She was tiny, and took all her purchases to a tailor for altering. They say some characteristics skip a generation - Daughter is like my mother. When Daughter went off to college, and I wouldn't be available to do her tailoring for her, I bought her a sewing machine and taught her how to use it. With all her engineering and math skills, she couldn't seem to understand the concept of equal top and bottom tension. She and the machine just didn't get along. She also refuses to learn how to knit, crochet, or embroider.
She's tiny. She's maybe two inches taller than I, but a good 50 lbs lighter, with my deep hips and short legs. I KNOW she needs pants and long skirts hemmed, if nothing else. I don't how she gets them done, and I know better than to ask.
Well, 14 hours sewing today, and the rocking chair is still a theory.
-------------------------------
Today is the first anniversary of friend and I meeting, and trading contact information. I sent him an e-card.
When you're dating someone, what does one consider the anniversary? Is it the first meeting (with instant attraction)? First unchaperoned date? First kiss? First overnight? And for us, there's the evening that Daughter interviewed him for two hours, and then approved him for dating her mother.
I think probably first overnight, because that involved a serious decision and commitment. (I'm old fashioned. One man at a time.) Not that it really matters. I'd be willing to celebrate each and every one of the milestones.
.
I spent the day trying to find the bedroom rocking chair. It's buried under a 4' stack of sewing. My neck and back killing me now, from peering over the top of my glasses to rip seams, and from hunching over the sewing machine.
Way back in the mists of time, when I first graduated from college and started teaching, my very first purchase was a used sewing machine. I made all of my clothes (except underwear), curtains, bed coverings, slipcovers, pillow covers, etc., and I knitted or crocheted all my sweaters. (BTW - I hated knitting sweaters in sections and sewing them together. I used to rewrite patterns so I could do them all in one piece on circular needles. No seams.)
That used sewing machine served me well for almost 30 years.
Now, I buy everything, but almost all my clothing still needs altering - hemming, taking in here, letting out there. If anything has wrist cuffs, I have to take the cuffs off, shorten the sleeves, and then put the cuffs back on.
My own mother didn't know how to thread a needle. She was tiny, and took all her purchases to a tailor for altering. They say some characteristics skip a generation - Daughter is like my mother. When Daughter went off to college, and I wouldn't be available to do her tailoring for her, I bought her a sewing machine and taught her how to use it. With all her engineering and math skills, she couldn't seem to understand the concept of equal top and bottom tension. She and the machine just didn't get along. She also refuses to learn how to knit, crochet, or embroider.
She's tiny. She's maybe two inches taller than I, but a good 50 lbs lighter, with my deep hips and short legs. I KNOW she needs pants and long skirts hemmed, if nothing else. I don't how she gets them done, and I know better than to ask.
Well, 14 hours sewing today, and the rocking chair is still a theory.
-------------------------------
Today is the first anniversary of friend and I meeting, and trading contact information. I sent him an e-card.
When you're dating someone, what does one consider the anniversary? Is it the first meeting (with instant attraction)? First unchaperoned date? First kiss? First overnight? And for us, there's the evening that Daughter interviewed him for two hours, and then approved him for dating her mother.
I think probably first overnight, because that involved a serious decision and commitment. (I'm old fashioned. One man at a time.) Not that it really matters. I'd be willing to celebrate each and every one of the milestones.
.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
1712 Aggression in Turkeys, and Others
Sunday, March 2, 2008
I have dinosaurs in my front yard. The wild turkey flock (I keep wanting to call it a herd) is getting big. I counted thirty yesterday, and some of those birds are huge - footprints seven inches long! I have several wild cherry trees, and every time it snows, the turkeys come and scratch away the snow under the trees, right down to bare ground. They look like a herd of velociraptors, and if they've found a lode of dried cherries, they're about as docile.
I briefly searched for an uncopyrighted turkey photo that had something for size reference, that I could stick in here. No luck. Just look at the chair you're sitting in. When they are bent over pecking at the ground, their back is higher than the chair seat.
Now put thirty of those monsters pecking cherries between you and your mailbox.
---------------------------------
A good point was made on a talk show this morning - that when a primary campaign gets negative, that gives fodder to the other party for the later campaign.
---------------------------------
Blogger spellcheck is back! Welcome. I missed you.
---------------------------------
I have a younger male friend who has had bad experiences with women. They tend to go a bit nuts on him, do crazy things when he tries to break up with them. One after another. Not just getting mad, but damaging property or even him. Police intervention on some. I think I know him well enough to know that he doesn't lead them on excessively or mistreat them, to where even sane women would want revenge - they just overreact and get vicious.
Well, maybe he does contribute. He tends to shut down, become impenetrable when he doesn't want to talk about something. That can drive a woman mad. But still, we don't all pick up bricks when we're angry.
So now he's woman-shy.
I told him that not all women are like that. Maybe he just selects for that type. Maybe one of the things that attracts him is passion, assertiveness to the point of aggression. Maybe he finds off-kilter intriguing. He's a bit of a nerd, so a woman would have to be a bit aggressive to get his attention. A sane less aggressive woman could flirt with him all day and he wouldn't notice.
So that got me thinking about my own selections.
Under "What I'm looking for" in my online dating profile (moribund for the past year, by the way), I said "bigger, smarter, and faster" than I am. (Which, by the way, I seem to have found, and not through the profile.) Anyway, in my dating history, I have always fallen for men whom I found very masculine. Someone who is strong and will take the lead, who can reason circles around me, but who is smart enough to appreciate my own smarts. I like men who are strong and definite and protective. I like to feel ultra feminine around my man. I need to smell the testosterone.
But in all the men I've chosen, there's always been one thing that ends up distressing me, and yes, I realize now that I initially chose that man precisely because of that. I reject men who don't have that quality, that characteristic. Pretty much the same way the young man above chooses women with a characteristic that ends up distressing him.
Wow. This is a stunning realization! Maybe I'm on my way to fixing it.
The problem? I tend to end up with men who are not sexually aggressive. Oh, they want it, and like it, and are very good at it, and hope all the time, and respond well, and all that - after all, I choose very sexy men who reek of testosterone blah blah blah. But the men I choose almost never initiate. I have to reach out and invite. And I hate that. I know that if I initiate, he will respond, so I feel like it's up to me to decide whether he may be too tired, or not in the mood, or needs his sleep for tomorrow, or ... whatever. And I can't ask, because - the men I choose - no matter what, if he thinks I want to, he'll accommodate me. I don't like having to make that decision all the time. I have to think about what's best for him.
I feel a little guilty now, because I let Jay sleep a lot in 2000, thinking he needed his sleep, what with all the chemotherapy and so on, not knowing that the surgery in January 2001 would end even the possibility. I suspect he may have wanted more. But he never would have made the first move. That decision was always mine, and I wonder now if I made the right one.
What I want is to be taken. To be "owned". Once we're intimate, I've always said "any time, anywhere, any way", and that torn clothing is just fine as long as they're willing to replace it. In fact, I'd rather like torn clothing. Sexual aggression, being passionately taken, is what I want, and I rarely get it from the men I choose.
Of course it's been obvious all along why this happens. I just never realized that I was actively rejecting sexually aggressive men, choosing more ... passive? no ... sensitive? no ... something-or-other men.
What happens is that early in the dating dance, I lose interest in a man as soon as he touches me without permission anywhere except my hands. Even just an arm around my shoulders will turn me off. He can't put an arm around me until I have snuggled into his shoulder to signal acceptance. Any man who touches me in any intimate way (and with me that's pretty much anywhere but the hands) before the first date will never get a first date. I never knew, until now, why I'd lose interest. Some guy would grab a quick hug, and I'd think "well, he's a nice guy, but I don't think we're compatible", without thinking about why we "weren't compatible". I guess because it's not reasonable for me to be turned off by a hug, I couldn't recognize that as the problem.
The men who passed the test were those men who were sensitive to and respected those signals. Gentlemen.
And then later, after we're intimate, I'm dissatisfied when he still waits for and respects the signals.
Hmmmmm. Where did that come from.
This probably goes back to my twenties, when I was emotionally fragile, and was taken advantage of by unscrupulous men. Many. It's like they can smell weakness. Wolves. Men who have no respect for any women in any way. Then in my mid-thirties, after several years of psychotherapy, I found me, and I got strong. I insist on respect now. And I guess one indicator of respect, in my mind, is that you don't touch me without permission.
So I select for men who demonstrate the proper respect. That turns out to be men who wait for me to initiate.
How do I fix that? I don't want to trade in the man I have now, but would it involve changing a basic part of his personality? I've already made it pretty clear verbally that he doesn't need specific permission, anywhere, any time, and I know he's capable of it. He surprised me once. I loved it! And I didn't even make him replace anything. How can I make that happen more often? Maybe I can suggest we take turns, and hey, it's your turn!
.
I have dinosaurs in my front yard. The wild turkey flock (I keep wanting to call it a herd) is getting big. I counted thirty yesterday, and some of those birds are huge - footprints seven inches long! I have several wild cherry trees, and every time it snows, the turkeys come and scratch away the snow under the trees, right down to bare ground. They look like a herd of velociraptors, and if they've found a lode of dried cherries, they're about as docile.
I briefly searched for an uncopyrighted turkey photo that had something for size reference, that I could stick in here. No luck. Just look at the chair you're sitting in. When they are bent over pecking at the ground, their back is higher than the chair seat.
Now put thirty of those monsters pecking cherries between you and your mailbox.
---------------------------------
A good point was made on a talk show this morning - that when a primary campaign gets negative, that gives fodder to the other party for the later campaign.
---------------------------------
Blogger spellcheck is back! Welcome. I missed you.
---------------------------------
I have a younger male friend who has had bad experiences with women. They tend to go a bit nuts on him, do crazy things when he tries to break up with them. One after another. Not just getting mad, but damaging property or even him. Police intervention on some. I think I know him well enough to know that he doesn't lead them on excessively or mistreat them, to where even sane women would want revenge - they just overreact and get vicious.
Well, maybe he does contribute. He tends to shut down, become impenetrable when he doesn't want to talk about something. That can drive a woman mad. But still, we don't all pick up bricks when we're angry.
So now he's woman-shy.
I told him that not all women are like that. Maybe he just selects for that type. Maybe one of the things that attracts him is passion, assertiveness to the point of aggression. Maybe he finds off-kilter intriguing. He's a bit of a nerd, so a woman would have to be a bit aggressive to get his attention. A sane less aggressive woman could flirt with him all day and he wouldn't notice.
So that got me thinking about my own selections.
Under "What I'm looking for" in my online dating profile (moribund for the past year, by the way), I said "bigger, smarter, and faster" than I am. (Which, by the way, I seem to have found, and not through the profile.) Anyway, in my dating history, I have always fallen for men whom I found very masculine. Someone who is strong and will take the lead, who can reason circles around me, but who is smart enough to appreciate my own smarts. I like men who are strong and definite and protective. I like to feel ultra feminine around my man. I need to smell the testosterone.
But in all the men I've chosen, there's always been one thing that ends up distressing me, and yes, I realize now that I initially chose that man precisely because of that. I reject men who don't have that quality, that characteristic. Pretty much the same way the young man above chooses women with a characteristic that ends up distressing him.
Wow. This is a stunning realization! Maybe I'm on my way to fixing it.
The problem? I tend to end up with men who are not sexually aggressive. Oh, they want it, and like it, and are very good at it, and hope all the time, and respond well, and all that - after all, I choose very sexy men who reek of testosterone blah blah blah. But the men I choose almost never initiate. I have to reach out and invite. And I hate that. I know that if I initiate, he will respond, so I feel like it's up to me to decide whether he may be too tired, or not in the mood, or needs his sleep for tomorrow, or ... whatever. And I can't ask, because - the men I choose - no matter what, if he thinks I want to, he'll accommodate me. I don't like having to make that decision all the time. I have to think about what's best for him.
I feel a little guilty now, because I let Jay sleep a lot in 2000, thinking he needed his sleep, what with all the chemotherapy and so on, not knowing that the surgery in January 2001 would end even the possibility. I suspect he may have wanted more. But he never would have made the first move. That decision was always mine, and I wonder now if I made the right one.
What I want is to be taken. To be "owned". Once we're intimate, I've always said "any time, anywhere, any way", and that torn clothing is just fine as long as they're willing to replace it. In fact, I'd rather like torn clothing. Sexual aggression, being passionately taken, is what I want, and I rarely get it from the men I choose.
Of course it's been obvious all along why this happens. I just never realized that I was actively rejecting sexually aggressive men, choosing more ... passive? no ... sensitive? no ... something-or-other men.
What happens is that early in the dating dance, I lose interest in a man as soon as he touches me without permission anywhere except my hands. Even just an arm around my shoulders will turn me off. He can't put an arm around me until I have snuggled into his shoulder to signal acceptance. Any man who touches me in any intimate way (and with me that's pretty much anywhere but the hands) before the first date will never get a first date. I never knew, until now, why I'd lose interest. Some guy would grab a quick hug, and I'd think "well, he's a nice guy, but I don't think we're compatible", without thinking about why we "weren't compatible". I guess because it's not reasonable for me to be turned off by a hug, I couldn't recognize that as the problem.
The men who passed the test were those men who were sensitive to and respected those signals. Gentlemen.
And then later, after we're intimate, I'm dissatisfied when he still waits for and respects the signals.
Hmmmmm. Where did that come from.
This probably goes back to my twenties, when I was emotionally fragile, and was taken advantage of by unscrupulous men. Many. It's like they can smell weakness. Wolves. Men who have no respect for any women in any way. Then in my mid-thirties, after several years of psychotherapy, I found me, and I got strong. I insist on respect now. And I guess one indicator of respect, in my mind, is that you don't touch me without permission.
So I select for men who demonstrate the proper respect. That turns out to be men who wait for me to initiate.
How do I fix that? I don't want to trade in the man I have now, but would it involve changing a basic part of his personality? I've already made it pretty clear verbally that he doesn't need specific permission, anywhere, any time, and I know he's capable of it. He surprised me once. I loved it! And I didn't even make him replace anything. How can I make that happen more often? Maybe I can suggest we take turns, and hey, it's your turn!
.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
1711 I Hate ... Something, or Somebody
Saturday, March 1, 2008
We haven't had a lot of snow this winter. It has snowed often, but not a lot all at once. However, I've had a lot more trouble handling the snow this winter, more even than the year that we had several 2'+ storms. I'm starting to hate snow, or forecasts, or forecasters, or something. It's the expectations that have messed me up.
Like, the snow a week ago yesterday. I was away for the weekend. When I got home Sunday evening, I figured I'd have to clear the driveway on Monday. But Monday was warm and sunny, and the snow was melting, the lower part of the drive was partially clear by mid-afternoon, so I decided to let it go. You can't use a snowthrower on wet mushy snow, anyway.
Snow was predicted Tuesday to the north of us, but all the maps, and weathermen, and the government weather radio assured me that we would get none, so I figured it would continue to melt in the sun.
Instead, surprise, we got several inches. That wouldn't have been too bad, except that it didn't warm up, so the slushy weekend snow froze into uneven ridges of schlice where I had driven over it, and then it rained after Tuesday's snow, so I had crusty new snow on top of the schlice. It remained below freezing, in the teens in fact, for the rest of the week.
So last night we were supposed to get 8-12" of fluff. I canceled my plans for the weekend because I knew I'd be spending today throwing fluff. AND, knowing that I wouldn't be able to run the snowthrower through the ridged frozen stuff already there, I paid a man $50 yesterday to plow the frozen stuff off, BEFORE the storm came, so I'd have a fresh surface to clear today.
We got all of 2 or 3".
And by noon it was already getting heavy and wet, AND it was drizzling rain, which tonight has frozen into a crust. Sigh. You ask why I didn't get out there early and throw it? Because (you'd think I'd know better by now) all the maps, and forecasters, and government weather radio reports said this morning that we'll have temperatures in the 40's starting Monday, and then for at least the next six days.
I've about had it. I'd rather we got snow, and then COLD until I can blow the fluff away. This thawing and shushing and crusting is miserable. Like it's toying with me.
------------------------------
My laptop or connection or something is also toying with me. Screens usually load quickly. I click on a link, and in a second or two, I'm on the next screen. Today, it's been 10 or 20 seconds of that slow "loading bar" across the bottom. Something is very wrong.
I have it set up to automatically clear temp files and ...uh... I forget the word, but when it moves pieces of files around on the hard disk so they're all together and easy to access? ... anyway, all that stuff gets done on the fly once a week or so.
I also run virus etc. scans on the fly, and started a scan manually this morning as soon as I noticed the slowdown.
Nada.
Fooey.
.
We haven't had a lot of snow this winter. It has snowed often, but not a lot all at once. However, I've had a lot more trouble handling the snow this winter, more even than the year that we had several 2'+ storms. I'm starting to hate snow, or forecasts, or forecasters, or something. It's the expectations that have messed me up.
Like, the snow a week ago yesterday. I was away for the weekend. When I got home Sunday evening, I figured I'd have to clear the driveway on Monday. But Monday was warm and sunny, and the snow was melting, the lower part of the drive was partially clear by mid-afternoon, so I decided to let it go. You can't use a snowthrower on wet mushy snow, anyway.
Snow was predicted Tuesday to the north of us, but all the maps, and weathermen, and the government weather radio assured me that we would get none, so I figured it would continue to melt in the sun.
Instead, surprise, we got several inches. That wouldn't have been too bad, except that it didn't warm up, so the slushy weekend snow froze into uneven ridges of schlice where I had driven over it, and then it rained after Tuesday's snow, so I had crusty new snow on top of the schlice. It remained below freezing, in the teens in fact, for the rest of the week.
So last night we were supposed to get 8-12" of fluff. I canceled my plans for the weekend because I knew I'd be spending today throwing fluff. AND, knowing that I wouldn't be able to run the snowthrower through the ridged frozen stuff already there, I paid a man $50 yesterday to plow the frozen stuff off, BEFORE the storm came, so I'd have a fresh surface to clear today.
We got all of 2 or 3".
And by noon it was already getting heavy and wet, AND it was drizzling rain, which tonight has frozen into a crust. Sigh. You ask why I didn't get out there early and throw it? Because (you'd think I'd know better by now) all the maps, and forecasters, and government weather radio reports said this morning that we'll have temperatures in the 40's starting Monday, and then for at least the next six days.
I've about had it. I'd rather we got snow, and then COLD until I can blow the fluff away. This thawing and shushing and crusting is miserable. Like it's toying with me.
------------------------------
My laptop or connection or something is also toying with me. Screens usually load quickly. I click on a link, and in a second or two, I'm on the next screen. Today, it's been 10 or 20 seconds of that slow "loading bar" across the bottom. Something is very wrong.
I have it set up to automatically clear temp files and ...uh... I forget the word, but when it moves pieces of files around on the hard disk so they're all together and easy to access? ... anyway, all that stuff gets done on the fly once a week or so.
I also run virus etc. scans on the fly, and started a scan manually this morning as soon as I noticed the slowdown.
Nada.
Fooey.
.
Friday, February 29, 2008
1710 Friday. More snow.
Friday, February 29, 2008
We're expecting 8-12 inches of snow this evening. Daffodils are blooming in Oregon. Disconnect!
-----------------------
I tuned in to "The View" a bit late this morning, so I missed the first part, so I may have it a bit wrong, but they seemed to be talking about some study that said diets and weight maintenance work better if the mental set, the goal, is to "avoid being fat" rather than to "get thin". Some of the women seemed to understand the difference, but Whoopie didn't.
At first, I saw the difference, but then, after I thought about it a while, I didn't.
Then someone (who doesn't have a weight problem) said something that was very significant, but no one pounced on it. She said, "I think I'm thinner than I am. Maybe a bit of body-image distortion."
That may be the difference between "to aviod being fat", and to "get thin". If you think you're thinner than you are, you're more relaxed about the whole thing. Your goal then is to avoid putting it on, not to "be thin".
I think I think I'm thinner than I am. Except for the belly pad and thighs (which in my opinion are more more leftover loose skin than fat), I'm pretty satisfied. I figure I'm about 10 pounds over where I'd like to be, but I'm not fussing over it.
And then I see photographs, and I'm horrified. Take a good look at the behind on the lady over there in the right column. What shows in photos just isn't what I see in the mirror.
The ladies were talking about how if you were overweight as a child, and lost the weight, you continue to think of yourself as overweight even when you're not. I was not thin when I was young, but everything I had was muscle (I had a well-defined six-pack and powerful legs) and lady-stuff (and lots of that). In the same vein, Barbara Walters talked about how she's been bottle blonde for many decades, but she still thinks of herself as a brunette, like when choosing clothing colors that would or would not look good on her.
That's strange to me. I was born platinum, and was blonde until about third grade, when my hair started to darken. From junior high right up until Jay got sick, my hair was medium dark brown with red highlights. I went "pale ash blonde" again during Jay's illness (yeah, it was really fast. I'd had a white spot on the top of my head since high school, and when Jay got sick it expanded exponentially.)
When I had dark hair I looked best in bright jewel colors - emerald green, ruby red - and rust browns. Pastels (except pink) just didn't work on me. I've had less than a decade to get used to the light hair (which, incidentally, I like, and which really does feel natural to me), but I have easily and naturally moved into pastels.
A side benefit - pastels bring out my pale eyes.
Ok, so, my seeing myself as thinner than I am, and my easy adjustment to changed coloring, is that because I was the recommended weight and blonde as a child? Has the child within come out?
-------------------------------------
I thought today was Sadie Hawkins Day. I sent a note to my friend asking him how fast he can run. Then I looked it up. Sadie Hawkins Day is in November, every year! Today is just leap day. Duh! (Friend replied that he's pretty spry, but I'm allowed to use roller skates.)
-------------------------------------
Go to http://www.tatuagemdaboa.com.br/ . Wait for the lady to appear, then write your first name on the first line, and your last name on the second line. No need to give an email address. Then click VISUALIZAR. Cute, but probably cuter if you're male.
--------------------------------------
A Mountain Dew commercial presents as fact that the yo-yo was originally invented as a weapon. That's not true. Very annoying. There are some cartoon characters, notably Japanese, who use yo-yos as weapons, but hey, that's CARTOON! Yo-yos were invented as toys a few thousand years ago.
It would be more accurate to say that baseball bats were invented as weapons.
.
We're expecting 8-12 inches of snow this evening. Daffodils are blooming in Oregon. Disconnect!
-----------------------
I tuned in to "The View" a bit late this morning, so I missed the first part, so I may have it a bit wrong, but they seemed to be talking about some study that said diets and weight maintenance work better if the mental set, the goal, is to "avoid being fat" rather than to "get thin". Some of the women seemed to understand the difference, but Whoopie didn't.
At first, I saw the difference, but then, after I thought about it a while, I didn't.
Then someone (who doesn't have a weight problem) said something that was very significant, but no one pounced on it. She said, "I think I'm thinner than I am. Maybe a bit of body-image distortion."
That may be the difference between "to aviod being fat", and to "get thin". If you think you're thinner than you are, you're more relaxed about the whole thing. Your goal then is to avoid putting it on, not to "be thin".
I think I think I'm thinner than I am. Except for the belly pad and thighs (which in my opinion are more more leftover loose skin than fat), I'm pretty satisfied. I figure I'm about 10 pounds over where I'd like to be, but I'm not fussing over it.
And then I see photographs, and I'm horrified. Take a good look at the behind on the lady over there in the right column. What shows in photos just isn't what I see in the mirror.
The ladies were talking about how if you were overweight as a child, and lost the weight, you continue to think of yourself as overweight even when you're not. I was not thin when I was young, but everything I had was muscle (I had a well-defined six-pack and powerful legs) and lady-stuff (and lots of that). In the same vein, Barbara Walters talked about how she's been bottle blonde for many decades, but she still thinks of herself as a brunette, like when choosing clothing colors that would or would not look good on her.
That's strange to me. I was born platinum, and was blonde until about third grade, when my hair started to darken. From junior high right up until Jay got sick, my hair was medium dark brown with red highlights. I went "pale ash blonde" again during Jay's illness (yeah, it was really fast. I'd had a white spot on the top of my head since high school, and when Jay got sick it expanded exponentially.)
When I had dark hair I looked best in bright jewel colors - emerald green, ruby red - and rust browns. Pastels (except pink) just didn't work on me. I've had less than a decade to get used to the light hair (which, incidentally, I like, and which really does feel natural to me), but I have easily and naturally moved into pastels.
A side benefit - pastels bring out my pale eyes.
Ok, so, my seeing myself as thinner than I am, and my easy adjustment to changed coloring, is that because I was the recommended weight and blonde as a child? Has the child within come out?
-------------------------------------
I thought today was Sadie Hawkins Day. I sent a note to my friend asking him how fast he can run. Then I looked it up. Sadie Hawkins Day is in November, every year! Today is just leap day. Duh! (Friend replied that he's pretty spry, but I'm allowed to use roller skates.)
-------------------------------------
Go to http://www.tatuagemdaboa.com.br/ . Wait for the lady to appear, then write your first name on the first line, and your last name on the second line. No need to give an email address. Then click VISUALIZAR. Cute, but probably cuter if you're male.
--------------------------------------
A Mountain Dew commercial presents as fact that the yo-yo was originally invented as a weapon. That's not true. Very annoying. There are some cartoon characters, notably Japanese, who use yo-yos as weapons, but hey, that's CARTOON! Yo-yos were invented as toys a few thousand years ago.
It would be more accurate to say that baseball bats were invented as weapons.
.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
1709 Thursday
Thursday, February 28, 2008
I started in the graduating class of '66 at my Pennsylvania college, and graduated early, with the class of '65, so most of the people I knew were in those groups. When I registered at the alumni website, I requested notification for classes from '63 to '68, since that would include just about everyone I knew. It was a small college (it's now a medium university), graduating about 200 people each year. I knew everybody who majored in math, and everybody who played pinochle, and between the two, that was probably half the school.
Over the past ten years, there have been announcements on the alumni site of awards, promotions, honors, grandchildren, and, uh, something odd - only once has it been someone I knew. It looks like the math and pinochle folks never did anything, or they just didn't announce it.
Over the past ten months, a disturbing trend has started, and seems to be increasing - black-bordered announcements - and this time it's names I recognize. There have been five so far this year from my graduating class. (If the alumni group was notified of five, how many more have we not heard about? Not all the class is registered online.)
It feels so odd. I feel young and healthy. Nine months ago I walked seven miles in high-heeled boots and didn't even notice. I'm dating a much younger man. I'm still waiting for grandchildren.
They never mention the cause of death. I wish I knew. I'd like to hear that his bungee line broke, or a lion ate her on safari. I don't want to think that they just plain fell apart.
--------------------------------------
This is funny. I'm not imbedding it because it's Adults Only, and not suitable for work. But if you're over 18, follow the link. Warning - it can turn into an earworm. You may find yourself singing it at work.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2s1AiGSxzA
Of course I'm going to send it to a few female friends.
----------------------------------------
On the kitty front, Jasper's probably heading into his first birthday, and he's still a little bird. He is now fascinated by the toilet, stands there peering into it as it flushes. I hope he never figures out how to flush it, like Gizmo here:
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WofFb_eOxxA#]
He's so curious about the toilet that now he wants to stick his head between my thighs when I'm sitting down, so he can see what's going on in there. Cracks me up. His ears tickle.
Water in general seems to fascinate him. I had been using one of those automatic water containers that consists of a jug upsidedown in a bowl. The jug holds about 2 quarts of water. I had to switch to a small ordinary (unspillable) bowl, because he paws and splashes at water, and was emptying the full 2 quarts all over the floor every other day.
.
I started in the graduating class of '66 at my Pennsylvania college, and graduated early, with the class of '65, so most of the people I knew were in those groups. When I registered at the alumni website, I requested notification for classes from '63 to '68, since that would include just about everyone I knew. It was a small college (it's now a medium university), graduating about 200 people each year. I knew everybody who majored in math, and everybody who played pinochle, and between the two, that was probably half the school.
Over the past ten years, there have been announcements on the alumni site of awards, promotions, honors, grandchildren, and, uh, something odd - only once has it been someone I knew. It looks like the math and pinochle folks never did anything, or they just didn't announce it.
Over the past ten months, a disturbing trend has started, and seems to be increasing - black-bordered announcements - and this time it's names I recognize. There have been five so far this year from my graduating class. (If the alumni group was notified of five, how many more have we not heard about? Not all the class is registered online.)
It feels so odd. I feel young and healthy. Nine months ago I walked seven miles in high-heeled boots and didn't even notice. I'm dating a much younger man. I'm still waiting for grandchildren.
They never mention the cause of death. I wish I knew. I'd like to hear that his bungee line broke, or a lion ate her on safari. I don't want to think that they just plain fell apart.
--------------------------------------
This is funny. I'm not imbedding it because it's Adults Only, and not suitable for work. But if you're over 18, follow the link. Warning - it can turn into an earworm. You may find yourself singing it at work.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2s1AiGSxzA
Of course I'm going to send it to a few female friends.
----------------------------------------
On the kitty front, Jasper's probably heading into his first birthday, and he's still a little bird. He is now fascinated by the toilet, stands there peering into it as it flushes. I hope he never figures out how to flush it, like Gizmo here:
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WofFb_eOxxA#]
He's so curious about the toilet that now he wants to stick his head between my thighs when I'm sitting down, so he can see what's going on in there. Cracks me up. His ears tickle.
Water in general seems to fascinate him. I had been using one of those automatic water containers that consists of a jug upsidedown in a bowl. The jug holds about 2 quarts of water. I had to switch to a small ordinary (unspillable) bowl, because he paws and splashes at water, and was emptying the full 2 quarts all over the floor every other day.
.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
1708 Bored on a Nothing Wednesday
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
TV, "NCIS". Cops arrive at the apartment door, guns drawn. Yell, "NCIS! Warrant!", pause one second (I counted), violently kick door open.
That disturbed me a lot. What if they had the wrong door? It happens.... What if innocent little I was on the other side of that door, about to open it, or about to ask, "Who? What? Huh?" I'd get the edge of the door right smack full in the face.
I hope that one second timing was poetic license. Or if they have to go in fast to prevent escape, they should yell "Get away from the door!"
--------------------------
There's a bit about the candidates that could make an enormous difference to me, but it's not information we'll get until it's too late to matter to the election.
I'd love to know who they intend to (or would like to) appoint to cabinet and executive positions. That might tell me a lot about what the next few years with them would be like.
(Some people would like to know who'd be their choice for vice-president in time for primaries, but since I can't vote in primaries, only the general election, by the time that matters to me it's known.)
.
TV, "NCIS". Cops arrive at the apartment door, guns drawn. Yell, "NCIS! Warrant!", pause one second (I counted), violently kick door open.
That disturbed me a lot. What if they had the wrong door? It happens.... What if innocent little I was on the other side of that door, about to open it, or about to ask, "Who? What? Huh?" I'd get the edge of the door right smack full in the face.
I hope that one second timing was poetic license. Or if they have to go in fast to prevent escape, they should yell "Get away from the door!"
--------------------------
There's a bit about the candidates that could make an enormous difference to me, but it's not information we'll get until it's too late to matter to the election.
I'd love to know who they intend to (or would like to) appoint to cabinet and executive positions. That might tell me a lot about what the next few years with them would be like.
(Some people would like to know who'd be their choice for vice-president in time for primaries, but since I can't vote in primaries, only the general election, by the time that matters to me it's known.)
.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
1707 Selling and Settling
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Business meeting followed by lunch in the pub with Piper today. Piper had met my friend on Saturday, when friend and I had passed through the village and stopped for lunch, and we ran into Piper, and I was interested in his reaction. He approves. Says he got "good vibes". That's nice. Piper is a very good judge of people, and he's not going to sugarcoat for me.
My driveway was full of snow when I returned on Sunday, but I didn't clear it yesterday because it was melting nicely. There was a storm predicted today, but ALL the TV maps and all the online maps showed the snow to the north of us. We absolutely weren't supposed to get anything more than a little rain.
When I left the house this morning to meet Piper, it was snowing heavily. After lunch, Piper had to drive south to a meeting in Fishkill, and I was worried about it, so I asked him to call when he got back. He called at 5, and said that as soon as he got out of the village, it turned to rain. No problem. He went on to say that the snow had now stopped in the village. I looked out the window, and it was still coming down thickly here at my house.
There's something strange about this place. I've mentioned before that when I drive north from NJ, I get depressed as soon as I get within three miles of home - because the snow is so much deeper here. It's a three mile radius circle around my house. Even north of here has less snow.
I don't understand.
--------------------------------
There's a commercial, I don't know exactly for what brand, but it tells us about a girl in South Africa who is "forced to miss school as much as one week out of four" because she doesn't have sanitary supplies. Buy our product, and we'll contribute (pads or tampons, I forget which) to girls in African villages.
Um, forced?
I went to high school in a very economically depressed area. Very few girls in my high school could afford to buy a commercial product that they'd use once and throw away. That would have been seen as the height of extravagance. Profligacy. Stupidity. They used the same thing their mothers and grandmothers had used - rags. Skillfully folded, pinned or tied, washed, bleached and then boiled, and reused.
Nobody is going to convince me that a girl is FORCED to miss school because she doesn't have access to rags and boiling water. Sorry. I don't buy your sob story. You don't have to have something just because someone is selling it.
Ok, I'm tough. And yes, I have used rags. That's where the expression "on the rag" comes from, you know.
-------------------------------
"Settling", for and against, has been all over the blogosphere this past week, after an article written by Lori Gottlieb in The Atlantic. She says that women should settle for “Mr. Good Enough” before it’s too late.
A lot of men don't want to marry these days. They'd rather have serial long term uncommitted relationships. Stay while it's good, get out when it isn't good any more, without all those costly legal entanglements. The number of younger men who have a genuine desire to get married is dropping. Women's clocks are ticking, and men don't have a clock, until they start to fall apart, and then they want to marry a nursemaid. So Ms. Gottlieb's point is that if your standards are too high, you may never find the perfect man, the soul mate, the passion, who will ALSO be willing to marry you, and so you'll have to lower your expectations. Settle.
I haven't heard anyone else say this, so I will: It's women's fault. We have made it too easy for the valuable men to get anything they want without having to make any committment. It's Nature for woman to want home and family, and for man to want woman. But the old expression is "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free"? We're giving too much away. We've made it too easy for men. Female sexual freedom came with a price, and now we don't want to pay it.
This has a deeper effect that no one has mentioned (not in what I've read, anyway). If there are children (and even in an uncommitted/temporary relationship, an unmarried woman in her mid to late 30s is hearing the clock ticking), when the man leaves the children will most likely be left to the woman's care. Sure, he'll likely pay support, but it's the woman whose career takes the hit. Raising a child takes more than money. It takes time. She can't put in the overtime, go on the business trips, take evening classes, she has to stay home during measels and mumps and childcare glitches. She becomes professionally undependable. He goes on with his life. His career progresses and hers stalls. He can afford the damn child support! He's getting raises. (Not to mention time for dating.) She is slowed down for the rest of her life.
Damn it ladies, stop giving your lives away! Stop making it so easy. We old feminists worked hard to get you younger ones an equal chance for the good-paying jobs. You're letting the men take it all away! And they're chuckling about it. They know they have you over a barrel.
Make him work to deserve you. Make him share the responsibilities and effects of the fun times.
Stop giving yourselves away!
---------------------------
The "Silken Touch" is turning into a riding crop lately, eh?
.
Business meeting followed by lunch in the pub with Piper today. Piper had met my friend on Saturday, when friend and I had passed through the village and stopped for lunch, and we ran into Piper, and I was interested in his reaction. He approves. Says he got "good vibes". That's nice. Piper is a very good judge of people, and he's not going to sugarcoat for me.
My driveway was full of snow when I returned on Sunday, but I didn't clear it yesterday because it was melting nicely. There was a storm predicted today, but ALL the TV maps and all the online maps showed the snow to the north of us. We absolutely weren't supposed to get anything more than a little rain.
When I left the house this morning to meet Piper, it was snowing heavily. After lunch, Piper had to drive south to a meeting in Fishkill, and I was worried about it, so I asked him to call when he got back. He called at 5, and said that as soon as he got out of the village, it turned to rain. No problem. He went on to say that the snow had now stopped in the village. I looked out the window, and it was still coming down thickly here at my house.
There's something strange about this place. I've mentioned before that when I drive north from NJ, I get depressed as soon as I get within three miles of home - because the snow is so much deeper here. It's a three mile radius circle around my house. Even north of here has less snow.
I don't understand.
--------------------------------
There's a commercial, I don't know exactly for what brand, but it tells us about a girl in South Africa who is "forced to miss school as much as one week out of four" because she doesn't have sanitary supplies. Buy our product, and we'll contribute (pads or tampons, I forget which) to girls in African villages.
Um, forced?
I went to high school in a very economically depressed area. Very few girls in my high school could afford to buy a commercial product that they'd use once and throw away. That would have been seen as the height of extravagance. Profligacy. Stupidity. They used the same thing their mothers and grandmothers had used - rags. Skillfully folded, pinned or tied, washed, bleached and then boiled, and reused.
Nobody is going to convince me that a girl is FORCED to miss school because she doesn't have access to rags and boiling water. Sorry. I don't buy your sob story. You don't have to have something just because someone is selling it.
Ok, I'm tough. And yes, I have used rags. That's where the expression "on the rag" comes from, you know.
-------------------------------
"Settling", for and against, has been all over the blogosphere this past week, after an article written by Lori Gottlieb in The Atlantic. She says that women should settle for “Mr. Good Enough” before it’s too late.
A lot of men don't want to marry these days. They'd rather have serial long term uncommitted relationships. Stay while it's good, get out when it isn't good any more, without all those costly legal entanglements. The number of younger men who have a genuine desire to get married is dropping. Women's clocks are ticking, and men don't have a clock, until they start to fall apart, and then they want to marry a nursemaid. So Ms. Gottlieb's point is that if your standards are too high, you may never find the perfect man, the soul mate, the passion, who will ALSO be willing to marry you, and so you'll have to lower your expectations. Settle.
I haven't heard anyone else say this, so I will: It's women's fault. We have made it too easy for the valuable men to get anything they want without having to make any committment. It's Nature for woman to want home and family, and for man to want woman. But the old expression is "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free"? We're giving too much away. We've made it too easy for men. Female sexual freedom came with a price, and now we don't want to pay it.
This has a deeper effect that no one has mentioned (not in what I've read, anyway). If there are children (and even in an uncommitted/temporary relationship, an unmarried woman in her mid to late 30s is hearing the clock ticking), when the man leaves the children will most likely be left to the woman's care. Sure, he'll likely pay support, but it's the woman whose career takes the hit. Raising a child takes more than money. It takes time. She can't put in the overtime, go on the business trips, take evening classes, she has to stay home during measels and mumps and childcare glitches. She becomes professionally undependable. He goes on with his life. His career progresses and hers stalls. He can afford the damn child support! He's getting raises. (Not to mention time for dating.) She is slowed down for the rest of her life.
Damn it ladies, stop giving your lives away! Stop making it so easy. We old feminists worked hard to get you younger ones an equal chance for the good-paying jobs. You're letting the men take it all away! And they're chuckling about it. They know they have you over a barrel.
Make him work to deserve you. Make him share the responsibilities and effects of the fun times.
Stop giving yourselves away!
---------------------------
The "Silken Touch" is turning into a riding crop lately, eh?
.
Monday, February 25, 2008
1706 The War Between the States, Take Two....
Monday, February 25, 2008
"CSI Miami" just started. Some guy got murdered by a pool, surrounded by other people, and no one noticed because they were all staring at a solar eclipse - with no eye protection, just staring straight up at it. Sheesh! I don't believe it! You'd think somebody on the show would know better!
That's in the same class as the way nobody on TV wears a seat belt.
-------------------------------
This is cute. The Georgia legislature has passed a resolution that the border between Georgia and Tennessee should be redrawn 1.1 miles to the north, to allow drought-stricken Georgia access to water from the Tennessee River. (Chris's take on it is at http://inanethoughtsandinsaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/02/blue-green-planet.html.)
The rationale is that "Congress in 1796 designated that Tennessee's southern borders should stretch along the 35th parallel, but surveyors in 1818 missed that mark by about 1.1 miles to the south."
They JUST noticed?
Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia would gain land (Mississippi would acquire a piece of Memphis), and Tennessee and North Carolina would lose land.
The Georgia legislature (singing "This Land Is Your Land") is serious, say they'll take it to the Supreme Court if a compromise isn't reached.
These are the people for whom the soup can instructions say "Step 1: Open can".
.
"CSI Miami" just started. Some guy got murdered by a pool, surrounded by other people, and no one noticed because they were all staring at a solar eclipse - with no eye protection, just staring straight up at it. Sheesh! I don't believe it! You'd think somebody on the show would know better!
That's in the same class as the way nobody on TV wears a seat belt.
-------------------------------
This is cute. The Georgia legislature has passed a resolution that the border between Georgia and Tennessee should be redrawn 1.1 miles to the north, to allow drought-stricken Georgia access to water from the Tennessee River. (Chris's take on it is at http://inanethoughtsandinsaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/02/blue-green-planet.html.)
The rationale is that "Congress in 1796 designated that Tennessee's southern borders should stretch along the 35th parallel, but surveyors in 1818 missed that mark by about 1.1 miles to the south."
They JUST noticed?
Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia would gain land (Mississippi would acquire a piece of Memphis), and Tennessee and North Carolina would lose land.
The Georgia legislature (singing "This Land Is Your Land") is serious, say they'll take it to the Supreme Court if a compromise isn't reached.
These are the people for whom the soup can instructions say "Step 1: Open can".
.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
1705 Warm Weekend
Sunday, February 24, 2008
I had a very nice weekend. I drove south on Friday through the snowstorm, and he drove north through the worst part of the storm, and we met halfway. I learned a few more things about him, and about myself, and I'm more comfortable now than I have been so far. I no longer feel like I don't know what's going on. I am content. Probably just for now, until I get antsy and want reassurance again, but for now, I love, I am loved, I understand more, and I am content.
When I got home this evening, there was snow on the driveway, but I felt courageous, backed up and got a head start, and bulled up the driveway. Actually made it all the way up. Wow!
.
I had a very nice weekend. I drove south on Friday through the snowstorm, and he drove north through the worst part of the storm, and we met halfway. I learned a few more things about him, and about myself, and I'm more comfortable now than I have been so far. I no longer feel like I don't know what's going on. I am content. Probably just for now, until I get antsy and want reassurance again, but for now, I love, I am loved, I understand more, and I am content.
When I got home this evening, there was snow on the driveway, but I felt courageous, backed up and got a head start, and bulled up the driveway. Actually made it all the way up. Wow!
.
Friday, February 22, 2008
1704 Weather Pixie
Friday, February 22, 2008
I have a little weather pixie over there on the right, just above Dilbert. She's dressed for the weather, and right now is standing in a snowstorm - just like me. She shows the current temperature, humidity, pressure, wind direction and speed, and the time that she was last updated.
Well, she claims to be dressed for the weather, but if she were my daughter, she wouldn't be leaving the house in that skimpy little jacket....
------------------------------
I've been getting a lot of semi-spam email from merchants with whom I have done business. They all contain the "to unsubscribe" link, and so one by one I've been unsubscribing.
What gets me is that they all, on the unsubscribe screen, say that it will take up to 10 days to get my email address off their lists. And they seem to mean it. I removed myself from a particular sewing supplies list a good ten days ago, and I'm still getting every-other-day emails from them.
Bull poopy!
It's not like they have ten days worth of already-addressed envelopes lined up in a mail room somewhere. Come on! When they are about to send their advertising emails, the address list is used then, on the fly. It's "real-time". So search for my email address in your lists, remove it, and it's immediate. What's with this ten-day crap?
.
I have a little weather pixie over there on the right, just above Dilbert. She's dressed for the weather, and right now is standing in a snowstorm - just like me. She shows the current temperature, humidity, pressure, wind direction and speed, and the time that she was last updated.
Well, she claims to be dressed for the weather, but if she were my daughter, she wouldn't be leaving the house in that skimpy little jacket....
------------------------------
I've been getting a lot of semi-spam email from merchants with whom I have done business. They all contain the "to unsubscribe" link, and so one by one I've been unsubscribing.
What gets me is that they all, on the unsubscribe screen, say that it will take up to 10 days to get my email address off their lists. And they seem to mean it. I removed myself from a particular sewing supplies list a good ten days ago, and I'm still getting every-other-day emails from them.
Bull poopy!
It's not like they have ten days worth of already-addressed envelopes lined up in a mail room somewhere. Come on! When they are about to send their advertising emails, the address list is used then, on the fly. It's "real-time". So search for my email address in your lists, remove it, and it's immediate. What's with this ten-day crap?
.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
1703 Hot Stuff
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Know how you don't think about a certain whatever, ever? And then all of a sudden it's everywhere? Well, I'm not a big fan of hot peppers in any form. About the only time I even think about them is when I'm in a restaurant, and I verify that nobody's going to bring me anything that's got them.
Seems like the past few days, that's all I'm reading and hearing about. Recipies. Studies of how hot various varieties are, and studies of how much the human body can take. Recommendations for keeping squirrels out of bird feeders. All kinds of stuff, a couple times a day for the past few days.
Today I came across the only information that REALLY interests me - how to kill the burn if you accidentally get bitten.
The active ingredient is capsaicin. I never thought about it before, but capsaicin is alkaline, a base. So what you want to neutralize it is an acid, like milk. (Another thing I never thought about - that milk is an acid. Yeah, ok, milk has lactic acid, yeah, I knew that, but somehow it never registered. I always thought of milk as alkaline, without thinking about it. I guess because of the way it reacts to vinegar.)
Anyway, that's why hot Indian foods are served with yogurt. Soy milk is not the same. Skim milk won't work, because the capsaicin is carried in the oils from the peppers, and you need the fat in the milk or yogurt to lift and dilute the oil so the lactic acid can get to the capsaicin. Even better is condensed milk, or cream. If you get the burn in your eyes or other sensitive areas, soak a washcloth in milk or yogurt, and apply. After handling peppers, wash with soap and water, then soak your fingertips in milk to neutralize anything that might remain under your fingernails.
Other things that will work (but not on the eyes) are orange juice, citrus slices, beer, or vinegar, although the last two don't do as good a job of diluting the oil.
Cool, eh?
Nobody said anything about Coke, but given the way it eats the hard water salts in my toilets, I bet that would work, too.
.
Know how you don't think about a certain whatever, ever? And then all of a sudden it's everywhere? Well, I'm not a big fan of hot peppers in any form. About the only time I even think about them is when I'm in a restaurant, and I verify that nobody's going to bring me anything that's got them.
Seems like the past few days, that's all I'm reading and hearing about. Recipies. Studies of how hot various varieties are, and studies of how much the human body can take. Recommendations for keeping squirrels out of bird feeders. All kinds of stuff, a couple times a day for the past few days.
Today I came across the only information that REALLY interests me - how to kill the burn if you accidentally get bitten.
The active ingredient is capsaicin. I never thought about it before, but capsaicin is alkaline, a base. So what you want to neutralize it is an acid, like milk. (Another thing I never thought about - that milk is an acid. Yeah, ok, milk has lactic acid, yeah, I knew that, but somehow it never registered. I always thought of milk as alkaline, without thinking about it. I guess because of the way it reacts to vinegar.)
Anyway, that's why hot Indian foods are served with yogurt. Soy milk is not the same. Skim milk won't work, because the capsaicin is carried in the oils from the peppers, and you need the fat in the milk or yogurt to lift and dilute the oil so the lactic acid can get to the capsaicin. Even better is condensed milk, or cream. If you get the burn in your eyes or other sensitive areas, soak a washcloth in milk or yogurt, and apply. After handling peppers, wash with soap and water, then soak your fingertips in milk to neutralize anything that might remain under your fingernails.
Other things that will work (but not on the eyes) are orange juice, citrus slices, beer, or vinegar, although the last two don't do as good a job of diluting the oil.
Cool, eh?
Nobody said anything about Coke, but given the way it eats the hard water salts in my toilets, I bet that would work, too.
.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
1702 Tuesday 2/19
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
I am on a "budget plan" with the electric company. This means that I pay a set amount every month, based on my average usage. They review it every so often and reset the amount.
So, I got a letter from Central Hudson. Last year I sent them $1,660.54 in payments. My actual usage was $1,572.51. Therefore they are raising my monthly payment by $7.
Therefore?
I don't understand.
------------------------
I got an email from a friend this evening. He had heard that "a North American dictator had stepped down, and Floridians were celebrating", got all excited, and was terribly disappointed when he discovered it was Castro. (Giggle.)
-------------------------
Naturally, I had to check that "North America" part. Opinion is divided. Some consider Cuba geographically part of North America, politically part of South America. There are arguments for Central America. And there are those of us who think the assignment of "continents" is pretty arbitrary anyway, like Europe and Asia are different continents? North America and Central America are different continents? Huh? ...and prefer to call Cuba part of "The Americas".
.
I am on a "budget plan" with the electric company. This means that I pay a set amount every month, based on my average usage. They review it every so often and reset the amount.
So, I got a letter from Central Hudson. Last year I sent them $1,660.54 in payments. My actual usage was $1,572.51. Therefore they are raising my monthly payment by $7.
Therefore?
I don't understand.
------------------------
I got an email from a friend this evening. He had heard that "a North American dictator had stepped down, and Floridians were celebrating", got all excited, and was terribly disappointed when he discovered it was Castro. (Giggle.)
-------------------------
Naturally, I had to check that "North America" part. Opinion is divided. Some consider Cuba geographically part of North America, politically part of South America. There are arguments for Central America. And there are those of us who think the assignment of "continents" is pretty arbitrary anyway, like Europe and Asia are different continents? North America and Central America are different continents? Huh? ...and prefer to call Cuba part of "The Americas".
.
Monday, February 18, 2008
1701 New Scheme
Monday, February 18, 2008
I'm going to try something. Instead of multiple posts per day (can you tell I have no one to talk to?) I'm going to start one post per day, file it as a draft, update it when I feel like it, and post it at the end of the day. That'll make for some long entries, I guess, but only one a day.
-----------------------
Today I went to an art exhibition, at the invitation of one of the artists. It ran for four days, Friday through today, in a historic building housing a legislator's offices. The advertised hours, both on the postcard I received and the personal email I got from the friend, were 10 am 'til 5 pm. Today was the first day I was able to go. It was a 45 minute drive, through the mountains, and I got there at 3:42 pm.
The place was cleared out. Exhibitors had packed up their cars and were leaving. A few people were moving furniture back into place when I arrived. There wasn't one piece of art anywhere. My friend said that they'd had no visitors since 2 pm, so at 3:00 they started shutting down.
He then "apologized", "I'm so sorry you were too late."
I about exploded. I looked him in the eye to make sure he understood what I was saying, "Bull. I wasn't too late. I was here in plenty of time. You guys didn't uphold your commitment to me and others like me. Your advertised hours were until 5!"
I've seen at lot of that lately - people just don't consider others. Back when I ran the monthly dinner, when we canceled because of snow, when we asked for RSVPs, I made sure everyone who had responded was aware we'd canceled. Sometimes there were no RSVPs required, just show up, and on several of those occasions I drove through a flippin' blizzard to make sure there was at least a note on the door.
Nowadays, it's not unusual to arrive at the appointed place and find no one there. I went to a dinner in Tivoli a few months ago and found the restaurant had closed suddenly a few days before. I was 5 minutes late. No one was there, and there was no note on the door as to a change of venue. I was hungry, so went to another place down the street, and found five other Mensans sitting there. They had all arrived before seven, found it closed, and moved - without leaving a note or waiting to see if anyone else showed up. One more person joined us, a result of the note *I* had left on the door. Hey folks, it really wasn't that difficult....
Bugs the hell out of me.
----------------------------------
Driving to the aborted exhibit, I passed an impressively huge mansion off to the side of the road, turrets and porches and bays. It was abandoned, grey unpainted wood rotting and falling, windows all broken. In person, it looks a LOT bigger than this photo implies.
(There are more of Lucas's photos of the exterior here: http://lucas-photography.blogspot.com/2007/12/bennett-college-in-millbrook-ny.html.)
When I got to the gallery I asked what it was. Until 1976, it was the Bennett College (Millbrook, NY). A very fashionable college (read finishing school) for women (no relation to the Greensboro, NC school of the same name). They ran out of money, and closed, and the building has been empty since. It's a shame. On the way home, I stopped for a closer look. I found another photo online, at http://www.opacity.us/site11_bennett_school_for_girls.htm#gallery17 (scroll UP to see the exterior photo), taken about 2 or three years ago.
Interior here: http://www.opacity.us/gallery17_close_calls.htm. Click on the first photo, then just keep going "next". Below the photos are comments, some very interesting comments from alumni.
A photo of an interior during its heyday here: http://www.hrvh.org/cdm4/item_viewer.php?CISOROOT=/mfl&CISOPTR=44, and more can be found at that Hudson River Valley Heritage website - search for "Bennett College".
I hate to see wonderful old buildings rotting away like that. The stonework is all still in perfect condition.
------------------------------
Howcum calendars that feature landscape photos always have winter photos during the winter months and summer photos during summer months and so on? When I open a new calendar to January, when it's cold and snowy and freezing outside, the last thing I want to see is a snowscape. If I were designing those calendars, I'd have snow scenes in the summer, and summer scenes in the winter.
.
I'm going to try something. Instead of multiple posts per day (can you tell I have no one to talk to?) I'm going to start one post per day, file it as a draft, update it when I feel like it, and post it at the end of the day. That'll make for some long entries, I guess, but only one a day.
-----------------------
Today I went to an art exhibition, at the invitation of one of the artists. It ran for four days, Friday through today, in a historic building housing a legislator's offices. The advertised hours, both on the postcard I received and the personal email I got from the friend, were 10 am 'til 5 pm. Today was the first day I was able to go. It was a 45 minute drive, through the mountains, and I got there at 3:42 pm.
The place was cleared out. Exhibitors had packed up their cars and were leaving. A few people were moving furniture back into place when I arrived. There wasn't one piece of art anywhere. My friend said that they'd had no visitors since 2 pm, so at 3:00 they started shutting down.
He then "apologized", "I'm so sorry you were too late."
I about exploded. I looked him in the eye to make sure he understood what I was saying, "Bull. I wasn't too late. I was here in plenty of time. You guys didn't uphold your commitment to me and others like me. Your advertised hours were until 5!"
I've seen at lot of that lately - people just don't consider others. Back when I ran the monthly dinner, when we canceled because of snow, when we asked for RSVPs, I made sure everyone who had responded was aware we'd canceled. Sometimes there were no RSVPs required, just show up, and on several of those occasions I drove through a flippin' blizzard to make sure there was at least a note on the door.
Nowadays, it's not unusual to arrive at the appointed place and find no one there. I went to a dinner in Tivoli a few months ago and found the restaurant had closed suddenly a few days before. I was 5 minutes late. No one was there, and there was no note on the door as to a change of venue. I was hungry, so went to another place down the street, and found five other Mensans sitting there. They had all arrived before seven, found it closed, and moved - without leaving a note or waiting to see if anyone else showed up. One more person joined us, a result of the note *I* had left on the door. Hey folks, it really wasn't that difficult....
Bugs the hell out of me.
----------------------------------
Driving to the aborted exhibit, I passed an impressively huge mansion off to the side of the road, turrets and porches and bays. It was abandoned, grey unpainted wood rotting and falling, windows all broken. In person, it looks a LOT bigger than this photo implies.
(There are more of Lucas's photos of the exterior here: http://lucas-photography.blogspot.com/2007/12/bennett-college-in-millbrook-ny.html.)
When I got to the gallery I asked what it was. Until 1976, it was the Bennett College (Millbrook, NY). A very fashionable college (read finishing school) for women (no relation to the Greensboro, NC school of the same name). They ran out of money, and closed, and the building has been empty since. It's a shame. On the way home, I stopped for a closer look. I found another photo online, at http://www.opacity.us/site11_bennett_school_for_girls.htm#gallery17 (scroll UP to see the exterior photo), taken about 2 or three years ago.
Interior here: http://www.opacity.us/gallery17_close_calls.htm. Click on the first photo, then just keep going "next". Below the photos are comments, some very interesting comments from alumni.
A photo of an interior during its heyday here: http://www.hrvh.org/cdm4/item_viewer.php?CISOROOT=/mfl&CISOPTR=44, and more can be found at that Hudson River Valley Heritage website - search for "Bennett College".
I hate to see wonderful old buildings rotting away like that. The stonework is all still in perfect condition.
------------------------------
Howcum calendars that feature landscape photos always have winter photos during the winter months and summer photos during summer months and so on? When I open a new calendar to January, when it's cold and snowy and freezing outside, the last thing I want to see is a snowscape. If I were designing those calendars, I'd have snow scenes in the summer, and summer scenes in the winter.
.
1700 Why WalMart?
I'll tell you why.
On the errands list:
- dry cat food, grocery store
- packing tape and box cutter, hardware store
- oil, gas station
- Prilosec OTC, drug store
- deposit checks, bank
- leather cat collar, pet shop
- seam ripper, fabric store
- inexpensive white turtleneck, nowhere within ten miles
If I shop local stores, that's seven separate stops, in and out of the car, and no turtleneck.
If I go to WalMart, it's one stop. And even though the nearest is ten miles away, it will probably be less gas, because I'll start the car only twice.
That's why.
.
On the errands list:
- dry cat food, grocery store
- packing tape and box cutter, hardware store
- oil, gas station
- Prilosec OTC, drug store
- deposit checks, bank
- leather cat collar, pet shop
- seam ripper, fabric store
- inexpensive white turtleneck, nowhere within ten miles
If I shop local stores, that's seven separate stops, in and out of the car, and no turtleneck.
If I go to WalMart, it's one stop. And even though the nearest is ten miles away, it will probably be less gas, because I'll start the car only twice.
That's why.
.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
1699 Schlice 2
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Wow! It's raining outside now, and the prediction for tomorrow is 55 degrees! Go, schlice, go! Go away!
.
Wow! It's raining outside now, and the prediction for tomorrow is 55 degrees! Go, schlice, go! Go away!
.
1698 Schlice
Sunday, February 17, 2008
The last storm we had (last weekend?) dumped seven inches of snow on my driveway, and then RAINED all over it. I didn't want to go out and clear the snow while it was raining, and then after the rain stopped I had four inches of wet slush, which the snowthrower couldn't handle. Folks with shorter driveways found it easy to push it off, but there's no way I could do my 4000+ square feet by hand.
That night it froze into "schlice" - snow slush become ice. I don't think even a plow could could clear it. I wasn't worried because a few days of warmer weather, or a nice long rain, would take care of it. No such luck. I may be schliced in until the end of March.
So for the past week the car has been at the bottom of the driveway. I walk up and down the schlice-covered hill to get in and out, which isn't too very bad except when I've been shopping. Hauling kitty litter and groceries? Yuck. My feet go like mad but I make no headway. I look like a cartoon.
I've driven the car over the schlice at the bottom, and the car didn't even crack it, but weirdly, the turkeys do make imprints. My yard is covered with huge turkey tracks.
When I drove to Saugerties yesterday, I was amazed at how little schlice they had, only two inches or less. Saugerties is north of here.
I don't understand.
I thought I'd be reprieved today. The prediction was 45 degrees and a good solid rain.
Nope. Upper 30s, and a short shower. Sigh.
.
The last storm we had (last weekend?) dumped seven inches of snow on my driveway, and then RAINED all over it. I didn't want to go out and clear the snow while it was raining, and then after the rain stopped I had four inches of wet slush, which the snowthrower couldn't handle. Folks with shorter driveways found it easy to push it off, but there's no way I could do my 4000+ square feet by hand.
That night it froze into "schlice" - snow slush become ice. I don't think even a plow could could clear it. I wasn't worried because a few days of warmer weather, or a nice long rain, would take care of it. No such luck. I may be schliced in until the end of March.
So for the past week the car has been at the bottom of the driveway. I walk up and down the schlice-covered hill to get in and out, which isn't too very bad except when I've been shopping. Hauling kitty litter and groceries? Yuck. My feet go like mad but I make no headway. I look like a cartoon.
I've driven the car over the schlice at the bottom, and the car didn't even crack it, but weirdly, the turkeys do make imprints. My yard is covered with huge turkey tracks.
When I drove to Saugerties yesterday, I was amazed at how little schlice they had, only two inches or less. Saugerties is north of here.
I don't understand.
I thought I'd be reprieved today. The prediction was 45 degrees and a good solid rain.
Nope. Upper 30s, and a short shower. Sigh.
.
1697 Flirting with the band
Sunday, February 17, 2008
I went out last night with a friend (male, but platonic). Another mutual friend was singing with a band. He also plays harmonica and acoustic guitar, very well, and writes music. Back in the 80s and early 90s, when I was still going to the annual local Mensa summercamp weekend, he used to lead a sing-along around a campfire (with marshmallows!) on the Saturday night of camp.
(Since I've been more active the past few years I'd been stopping in at the camp just for Saturdays, and I've been very disappointed that they don't have the singalongs or even the campfire any more. They sit in the dining hall and play cards and board games. It's like a different group, or something. Like maybe they got older, and I didn't.)
Anyway, way back then, he had a slightly John Denver look, and every year he tried to get me into his tent. It was playful flirting, and fun. (His wife never accompanied him to camp.) One year he and his wife were separated (temporarily, as it turned out), and the flirting almost got out of hand. But only almost.
He has aged well, has acquired an almost Paul Newman look now. He's actually pretty darn sexy.
So, anyway, my date and I arrived early for dinner before the band started.
Now, something I don't understand. When a restaurant/bar has entertainment on late Friday and/or Saturday nights, why do they always put the band (or karaoke, for that matter) in a tiny room in the back, or in an alcove off to the side of the seating area? And why, when the band is in a tiny room, do they still have the volume up high enough to rattle fillings?
The place was packed, so we asked to be seated for dinner in that back room. The room had only seven two-to-four person tables, and the far end was open to the bar. I ended up three feet from the microphones.
When our singing friend arrived (oh foo, let's call him X), he stopped by the table and spoke with my "date" (oh foo, let's call him "Roman") for a few seconds. When X left to help set up, Roman asked me if I knew X other than just to recognize him. I shot my eyebrows up, and said oh yeah, I once knew him well, that I've known him for almost twenty-five years. Roman smirked.
Roman and I have pretty much settled into an understanding, so I don't know why his superior attitude still bugs me. You'd think I'd just shrug it off. I guess last night I was still a bit annoyed about the animusic thing. Two years ago I discovered animusic, and tried to tell Roman about it, I had bought the DVDs and tried to show them to him, and he wouldn't even look at it. He just knew it wasn't "his thing", and my enthusiasm carried no weight. Like I have no taste or something. Terribly low class. Last week, he called all excited about this "animusic thing" *HE* had discovered. He has no idea how much that pissed me off. When someone is enthusiastic about something, if you respect them, you at least listen to them and consider it.
So, I decided to steal X from him. I flirted. I ended up with X's playlist tucked into my décolletage, and X sitting next to me during his break, whispering into each other's ears to be heard over the band. So there. Yeah, I know him.
For your viewing pleasure, I give you Animusic:
(If the first is too mechanical for your taste, you might enjoy the second more.)
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S3vS3LGH5gs&feature=related]
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l1hqF9nqabQ&feature=related#]
And for something entirely different,
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8g5uL1Z764o]
Lots more on Youtube.com. Just search for "animusic". "Harmonic Voltage" is one of my favorites. Their website is http://www.animusic.com/, where you can buy the full DVDs.
.
I went out last night with a friend (male, but platonic). Another mutual friend was singing with a band. He also plays harmonica and acoustic guitar, very well, and writes music. Back in the 80s and early 90s, when I was still going to the annual local Mensa summercamp weekend, he used to lead a sing-along around a campfire (with marshmallows!) on the Saturday night of camp.
(Since I've been more active the past few years I'd been stopping in at the camp just for Saturdays, and I've been very disappointed that they don't have the singalongs or even the campfire any more. They sit in the dining hall and play cards and board games. It's like a different group, or something. Like maybe they got older, and I didn't.)
Anyway, way back then, he had a slightly John Denver look, and every year he tried to get me into his tent. It was playful flirting, and fun. (His wife never accompanied him to camp.) One year he and his wife were separated (temporarily, as it turned out), and the flirting almost got out of hand. But only almost.
He has aged well, has acquired an almost Paul Newman look now. He's actually pretty darn sexy.
So, anyway, my date and I arrived early for dinner before the band started.
Now, something I don't understand. When a restaurant/bar has entertainment on late Friday and/or Saturday nights, why do they always put the band (or karaoke, for that matter) in a tiny room in the back, or in an alcove off to the side of the seating area? And why, when the band is in a tiny room, do they still have the volume up high enough to rattle fillings?
The place was packed, so we asked to be seated for dinner in that back room. The room had only seven two-to-four person tables, and the far end was open to the bar. I ended up three feet from the microphones.
When our singing friend arrived (oh foo, let's call him X), he stopped by the table and spoke with my "date" (oh foo, let's call him "Roman") for a few seconds. When X left to help set up, Roman asked me if I knew X other than just to recognize him. I shot my eyebrows up, and said oh yeah, I once knew him well, that I've known him for almost twenty-five years. Roman smirked.
Roman and I have pretty much settled into an understanding, so I don't know why his superior attitude still bugs me. You'd think I'd just shrug it off. I guess last night I was still a bit annoyed about the animusic thing. Two years ago I discovered animusic, and tried to tell Roman about it, I had bought the DVDs and tried to show them to him, and he wouldn't even look at it. He just knew it wasn't "his thing", and my enthusiasm carried no weight. Like I have no taste or something. Terribly low class. Last week, he called all excited about this "animusic thing" *HE* had discovered. He has no idea how much that pissed me off. When someone is enthusiastic about something, if you respect them, you at least listen to them and consider it.
So, I decided to steal X from him. I flirted. I ended up with X's playlist tucked into my décolletage, and X sitting next to me during his break, whispering into each other's ears to be heard over the band. So there. Yeah, I know him.
For your viewing pleasure, I give you Animusic:
(If the first is too mechanical for your taste, you might enjoy the second more.)
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S3vS3LGH5gs&feature=related]
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l1hqF9nqabQ&feature=related#]
And for something entirely different,
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8g5uL1Z764o]
Lots more on Youtube.com. Just search for "animusic". "Harmonic Voltage" is one of my favorites. Their website is http://www.animusic.com/, where you can buy the full DVDs.
.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
1696 Wasted Morning
Saturday, February 16, 2008
I was supposed to volunteer at the free tax clinic again today. The notice said to be at the Saugerties High School at 10 am.
I remembered it wrong, and rushed to Saugerties (45 minutes away) to be there at nine. When I arrived and found no one there, I dug the notice out of my purse, found that I was an hour early, and drove around Saugerties a little to waste some time and look at houses. Got back to the school at 9:45, found the front doors still locked and no other cars in the lot, and so I waited. And waited. Luckily I had brought a book and had plenty of gas. By 10:20, the only other people to show up were the other two RSVP/SWAT volunteers.
We went around to the back of the building and found an open door. Hunted down a custodian. He knew nothing of any tax clinic.
I left. Went to the village diner and had French toast and tea, and headed home. I am thoroughly pissed. Either we were told the wrong address, or the wrong date, or the clinic was canceled and no one thought to tell us. The notice we got didn't have the name or phone number of the tax clinic contact, so we could not have checked for ourselves.
I'm supposed to do this again on March 1, and I'm tempted to cancel. That happens to be the 1-year anniversary of meeting my NJ friend. I've already alerted him I'm not available that Saturday, so he may have already made other plans, but if there's another no show with the tax people, I'd be spitting nails. I'd rather cancel out and take the chance of just sitting home. At least I wouldn't be angry AND sitting home.
---------------------------
On another front, I was curious about the C-string (back view here). I didn't see how they could possibly work. They supposedly are sweeping Europe, and are next to impossible to find in the US. So I shopped online to find the best deal, found a reasonable seller in Canada, and bought one. It arrived today.
It actually is very comfortable, barely there, and stays on while walking around the house, bending, sitting, and so on. I gave it the acid test of a belly dance shimmy - and it fell off. Oops. If I ever have the courage to actually wear it (doubtful), it will be with slacks or panty hose only. Something there to catch it if it attempts to escape.
I think it's going to be one of those gee-whiz things that everybody has to buy one, and then they will disappear - except for the "ahem"s who will insist they are proper bathing suit bottoms.
Actually, one may as well just go commando.
.
I was supposed to volunteer at the free tax clinic again today. The notice said to be at the Saugerties High School at 10 am.
I remembered it wrong, and rushed to Saugerties (45 minutes away) to be there at nine. When I arrived and found no one there, I dug the notice out of my purse, found that I was an hour early, and drove around Saugerties a little to waste some time and look at houses. Got back to the school at 9:45, found the front doors still locked and no other cars in the lot, and so I waited. And waited. Luckily I had brought a book and had plenty of gas. By 10:20, the only other people to show up were the other two RSVP/SWAT volunteers.
We went around to the back of the building and found an open door. Hunted down a custodian. He knew nothing of any tax clinic.
I left. Went to the village diner and had French toast and tea, and headed home. I am thoroughly pissed. Either we were told the wrong address, or the wrong date, or the clinic was canceled and no one thought to tell us. The notice we got didn't have the name or phone number of the tax clinic contact, so we could not have checked for ourselves.
I'm supposed to do this again on March 1, and I'm tempted to cancel. That happens to be the 1-year anniversary of meeting my NJ friend. I've already alerted him I'm not available that Saturday, so he may have already made other plans, but if there's another no show with the tax people, I'd be spitting nails. I'd rather cancel out and take the chance of just sitting home. At least I wouldn't be angry AND sitting home.
---------------------------
On another front, I was curious about the C-string (back view here). I didn't see how they could possibly work. They supposedly are sweeping Europe, and are next to impossible to find in the US. So I shopped online to find the best deal, found a reasonable seller in Canada, and bought one. It arrived today.
It actually is very comfortable, barely there, and stays on while walking around the house, bending, sitting, and so on. I gave it the acid test of a belly dance shimmy - and it fell off. Oops. If I ever have the courage to actually wear it (doubtful), it will be with slacks or panty hose only. Something there to catch it if it attempts to escape.
I think it's going to be one of those gee-whiz things that everybody has to buy one, and then they will disappear - except for the "ahem"s who will insist they are proper bathing suit bottoms.
Actually, one may as well just go commando.
.
Friday, February 15, 2008
1695 Sleeping With Pets
Just a quick question for any visitors who have pets. Do your pets sleep in/on your bed with you? I'm guessing it's a 90% yes.
Ex#2 was from farm stock, and not only were animals not allowed in the bedroom, they had to go outside at night. I always felt so guilty about that.
Gypsy, you're exempt from this question. If your snake sleeps with you, I don't want to know! How big is Bindi now, anyway? Last time I saw her she was about two fingers wide.
(I just drank a glass of Grand Marnier. Is it showing?)
.
Ex#2 was from farm stock, and not only were animals not allowed in the bedroom, they had to go outside at night. I always felt so guilty about that.
Gypsy, you're exempt from this question. If your snake sleeps with you, I don't want to know! How big is Bindi now, anyway? Last time I saw her she was about two fingers wide.
(I just drank a glass of Grand Marnier. Is it showing?)
.
1694 They Cut Me Off!
Friday, February 15, 2008
My internet connection is provided by the same folks I have my cell phone contract with. There's this little dohickey I plug in the laptop, and it acts like a cell phone. Locates a route and dials in. It's (as far as I can tell) as fast as a cable connection, and I've been mostly happy with it, especially since it can travel with me.
This morning I told it to connect, and it came back and said it was "unable to establish a connection, try again later." I tried again later for about an hour, and then wondered if maybe there was a problem with cell service in general. I turned on my regular cell phone and tried to call my house phone (a different phone company).
And got a strange message.
My cell service, including the internet connection, had been turned off. Um, it sorta looks like I haven't paid the bill since early December.
I know I've been a bit lax lately, but I didn't realize I'd been THAT lax.
The strange message gave me the opportunity to pay the bill right then, over the phone, by credit card, so I did. I had service back within minutes.
I guess I'd better visit my other desk, the one where all the bills go, and find out what else I've neglected.
.
My internet connection is provided by the same folks I have my cell phone contract with. There's this little dohickey I plug in the laptop, and it acts like a cell phone. Locates a route and dials in. It's (as far as I can tell) as fast as a cable connection, and I've been mostly happy with it, especially since it can travel with me.
This morning I told it to connect, and it came back and said it was "unable to establish a connection, try again later." I tried again later for about an hour, and then wondered if maybe there was a problem with cell service in general. I turned on my regular cell phone and tried to call my house phone (a different phone company).
And got a strange message.
My cell service, including the internet connection, had been turned off. Um, it sorta looks like I haven't paid the bill since early December.
I know I've been a bit lax lately, but I didn't realize I'd been THAT lax.
The strange message gave me the opportunity to pay the bill right then, over the phone, by credit card, so I did. I had service back within minutes.
I guess I'd better visit my other desk, the one where all the bills go, and find out what else I've neglected.
.
1693 Decisions
Friday, February 15, 2008
I've been a bit blah lately, and I've finally figured out why. I'm not supposed to talk about him here, but I will anyway, 'cause he's why, and it's my story, and I can tell it.
I'm "waiting for the other shoe to drop" because we're coming up on a year, and I will have to decide what I want to do, and I don't know. I absolutely adore him. He fascinates me. His mind amazes me. His enthusiasm is infectious. His body is just plain beautiful. He's very protective. I feel so very small and feminine when I'm with him. That's unusual for me. I am very strong and willful, and will kick and spit and prod and push. I don't with him. I look up to him.
Yeah, there are lots of times when he has said stuff or done stuff that just didn't fit (I think sometimes he forgets how smart I am), and he likes secrets, and if it were any other man I'd challenge him right off, but with this man I just nod and let it go. I accept, or withhold judgment. Very unusual for me. I don't know if it's because I've mellowed, or if I'm simply too infatuated to chance angering him. Or maybe it's because I know he really is honest and faithful and all that, and the inconsistencies and half-truths I've seen are a self-defense mechanism - things have happened in his past that he's begun telling me about that explain a lot, that make it difficult for him to be completely open - and as he trusts me more the subterfuge is abating, whatever, anyway, I trust him. He is opening to me, and if I can be patient, he will be more comfortable exposing more of himself to me. He's a little like an abused animal.
Anyway, the thing is, I'm getting older. I can't afford to waste time on something that may not be more than extended dating, a "this is good now" kind of thing, no matter how wonderful and exciting it is. I have to plan for the future. I want a life companion, someone who will still be there when I start falling apart. We've moved slowly, and that's good. It was seven months before we used the L-word, and I believe him completely when he tells me now how much I mean to him...
...and some of his emails could bring back the old word "swoon"...so very romantic...
...but...
There's the age difference. We're at different stages in our lives. I'm ready for travel and recreation. He's wrapped up in work and career. (But it's cute that I'm not a grandmother yet, and he's a grandfather twice over.) I have lots of free time, and he has next to none, what with the job, the responsibilities of a large extended family, and some activities that he seems to obsess over. I'm not seeing enough of him. I'm alone a lot, still. I don't understand why he can't share some of those activities with me. The distance (2+ hour drive) doesn't help. The last few times we've been together my frustration leaked out.
So, that's what's bugging me. I may need more than he can give me right now. I don't know where this is going, and I need to figure out whether it's in my best interests to stay on the ride or get off.
It's not a decision I want to make. I could give it more time and see what happens, but I don't know how much more time. How much do I need? How much can I afford? I would like this to be forever, but ... I don't know.
Maybe it's significant that I don't feel like this is something I can bring up with him. Not yet, anyway. (Like many Aspies and geeks in general, he doesn't seem to see time passing. He'd see it as pushing. As not caring enough to hang in there and let it develop. Sigh.)
I need a man's advice, and my only close male friends would prefer to see him dead.
.
I've been a bit blah lately, and I've finally figured out why. I'm not supposed to talk about him here, but I will anyway, 'cause he's why, and it's my story, and I can tell it.
I'm "waiting for the other shoe to drop" because we're coming up on a year, and I will have to decide what I want to do, and I don't know. I absolutely adore him. He fascinates me. His mind amazes me. His enthusiasm is infectious. His body is just plain beautiful. He's very protective. I feel so very small and feminine when I'm with him. That's unusual for me. I am very strong and willful, and will kick and spit and prod and push. I don't with him. I look up to him.
Yeah, there are lots of times when he has said stuff or done stuff that just didn't fit (I think sometimes he forgets how smart I am), and he likes secrets, and if it were any other man I'd challenge him right off, but with this man I just nod and let it go. I accept, or withhold judgment. Very unusual for me. I don't know if it's because I've mellowed, or if I'm simply too infatuated to chance angering him. Or maybe it's because I know he really is honest and faithful and all that, and the inconsistencies and half-truths I've seen are a self-defense mechanism - things have happened in his past that he's begun telling me about that explain a lot, that make it difficult for him to be completely open - and as he trusts me more the subterfuge is abating, whatever, anyway, I trust him. He is opening to me, and if I can be patient, he will be more comfortable exposing more of himself to me. He's a little like an abused animal.
Anyway, the thing is, I'm getting older. I can't afford to waste time on something that may not be more than extended dating, a "this is good now" kind of thing, no matter how wonderful and exciting it is. I have to plan for the future. I want a life companion, someone who will still be there when I start falling apart. We've moved slowly, and that's good. It was seven months before we used the L-word, and I believe him completely when he tells me now how much I mean to him...
...and some of his emails could bring back the old word "swoon"...so very romantic...
...but...
There's the age difference. We're at different stages in our lives. I'm ready for travel and recreation. He's wrapped up in work and career. (But it's cute that I'm not a grandmother yet, and he's a grandfather twice over.) I have lots of free time, and he has next to none, what with the job, the responsibilities of a large extended family, and some activities that he seems to obsess over. I'm not seeing enough of him. I'm alone a lot, still. I don't understand why he can't share some of those activities with me. The distance (2+ hour drive) doesn't help. The last few times we've been together my frustration leaked out.
So, that's what's bugging me. I may need more than he can give me right now. I don't know where this is going, and I need to figure out whether it's in my best interests to stay on the ride or get off.
It's not a decision I want to make. I could give it more time and see what happens, but I don't know how much more time. How much do I need? How much can I afford? I would like this to be forever, but ... I don't know.
Maybe it's significant that I don't feel like this is something I can bring up with him. Not yet, anyway. (Like many Aspies and geeks in general, he doesn't seem to see time passing. He'd see it as pushing. As not caring enough to hang in there and let it develop. Sigh.)
I need a man's advice, and my only close male friends would prefer to see him dead.
.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
1691 Socks
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
I spent most of last evening and much of this morning doing laundry. It's a chore because the super-hard well water has glumked up the valves, and I can't let the washer fill itself because the valves won't shut off completely and water will fill the washer, the laundry room, and half the kitchen before the cats let me know there's something wrong. So I have to fill by hand with a hose from the utility sink.
I put laundry off as long as possible, so when I do it, it's a lot. In the past 24 hours, I've washed
- 3 loads of white
- 2 loads of dark
- 1 load of red
- 1 load of pastel
- 1 load of fragile
- 1 load of colored
- 2 loads of sheets
- 2 loads of towels
That adds up to 13. Maybe that's what jinxed the socks.
There are two net bags hanging on the laundry bin. When I take socks off, I put them directly into a bag. They don't lie around. They're either on my feet or in the bag, as a pair. When it's laundry time, I tie the bags closed. The bags go into the washer and the dryer tied. They do not come untied. When they're dry, I dump the bags out on the bed and sort the socks into pairs, carefully guarding them from Jasper.
So howcum I ALWAYS have at least three stray socks? Two I could almost understand - maybe the last time I sorted and paired them I mixed up two sets and there's another mismatched pair in the drawer. But three?
Whenever I see one of those escape artists get out of a locked bag underwater, I think of socks.
I don't understand.
.
I spent most of last evening and much of this morning doing laundry. It's a chore because the super-hard well water has glumked up the valves, and I can't let the washer fill itself because the valves won't shut off completely and water will fill the washer, the laundry room, and half the kitchen before the cats let me know there's something wrong. So I have to fill by hand with a hose from the utility sink.
I put laundry off as long as possible, so when I do it, it's a lot. In the past 24 hours, I've washed
- 3 loads of white
- 2 loads of dark
- 1 load of red
- 1 load of pastel
- 1 load of fragile
- 1 load of colored
- 2 loads of sheets
- 2 loads of towels
That adds up to 13. Maybe that's what jinxed the socks.
There are two net bags hanging on the laundry bin. When I take socks off, I put them directly into a bag. They don't lie around. They're either on my feet or in the bag, as a pair. When it's laundry time, I tie the bags closed. The bags go into the washer and the dryer tied. They do not come untied. When they're dry, I dump the bags out on the bed and sort the socks into pairs, carefully guarding them from Jasper.
So howcum I ALWAYS have at least three stray socks? Two I could almost understand - maybe the last time I sorted and paired them I mixed up two sets and there's another mismatched pair in the drawer. But three?
Whenever I see one of those escape artists get out of a locked bag underwater, I think of socks.
I don't understand.
.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
1690 The Snake
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
A beautiful snake:
[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6KdC1zDKUn0]
It's interesting now, but when she hits 50, she's gonna have pain when her knees, hips, and spine revolt, just like belly dancers who used to do a lot of floorwork in their youth. Tiny injuries and overstretching builds up.
.
A beautiful snake:
[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6KdC1zDKUn0]
It's interesting now, but when she hits 50, she's gonna have pain when her knees, hips, and spine revolt, just like belly dancers who used to do a lot of floorwork in their youth. Tiny injuries and overstretching builds up.
.
Monday, February 11, 2008
1689 Online auction addiction
Monday, February 11, 2008
I can tell I'm a bit depressed lately by the contents of the mailbox. I've been shopping online. I do that when I feel like I need pampering. Shopping online is more satisfying than shopping in stores, because when packages arrive in the mail, or when the big brown or yellow trucks come up the driveway, it feels like someone sent me a gift. Somehow it gets disconnected from the money spent.
Some of the shopping has been on eBay. I hadn't visited eBay since the fall of 2005 (except once to buy something from a friend), but since last July I've been indulging far too much, in spurts.
There's a method to get the best deals on eBay. I don't understand people who bid early in an eBay auction. It's not at all like a live auction, when you want to register interest with the auctioneer so that you don't get left out when the bidding gets hot. Registering early interest on eBay is NOT a good thing, and it's completely unnecessary, if you understand automatic bidding. If you want to make sure the seller doesn't end the auction early, just ask a question. That tells the seller you're interested without alerting other bidders.
I'll see a nice sari, with three days to go on the auction, and six or seven bids in on it already, invariably from people with less than 80 in feedback count. They obviously don't understand eBay's automatic bidding and they're just bidding each other up. I don't bid until the last few seconds of the auction, and I almost always win at the lowest possible winning amount. If I had placed the same bid earlier, someone would have "nibbled" my bid all the way up.
(Bidding in the last few seconds is called "sniping", and it's despised by people who don't understand automatic bids. The explanation of automatic bidding is complicated, but once understood, the concept is simple.)
So I do a little research on the other bidders who have revealed their interest. I look at what they've bought ("won") lately, and how much they paid, how much they're willing to go for an item of this type. I look at what their interests seem to be. I look to see if they have a habit of "nibbling" up automatic bids. I look to see if they ever snipe.
And frankly, I look just because I'm snoopy and I want to know what they bought. Sometimes I find some good stuff, good sellers, that way.
One woman I researched today had a very strange buying history. She was buying all kinds of pure junk. Then I realized it was all very cheap junk, and she was getting it at the starting price (often very low) as the only bidder. It looks like she opens with the lowest bid on a LOT of junk (we're talking like $.50 and $1.25 shipping), and then either gets outbid, or wins for a pittance. She has bought and got feedback on about 50 items in the past two weeks. I suddenly realized that she isn't buying stuff - she's spending a little money to build a good feedback rating. I'll bet that if I look back in a month, I'll find her listing all that junk for sale, along with some of her own stuff that she wants to sell.
She's smart. A lot of people won't buy, especially expensive items, from someone who has less than 50 feedbacks, or less than 99% positive. Most people won't notice that her perfect feedback is all from buying piddly things.
She's the one I'd worry about. The sari she has bid on is already higher than she has paid for anything else. It's obvious she's smart, and she's specifically interested in this particular sari. This means I should bid very close to the end of the auction, leaving only seconds. Super snipe.
And that's the lure of eBay. Not only do I get "gifts" in the mail, but I get the thrill of the hunt, chase, and kill.
Of course, the question is, why do I need that boost now?
-------------------------------------
A sari? Yeah, I wear them occasionally. And where else can you get six yards of bordered silk for $25?
The best sari seller out there is Bee Patel [http://stores.ebay.com/Bee-Patels-Sari-Palace]. Her saris are always in perfect condition, described accurately, well photographed, and priced right. My only complaint is that she doesn't sell the sari together with the matching blouse (choli). They're separate auctions, and it's possible to win one and not the other, which is maddening.
--------------------------------------
Later: I was just wandering around eBay, and I found a seller, Everydaysource, who has a feedback count of 710202. That's over 700,000 individual eBay ids he has sold stuff to. Not 700,000 sales, the sales number is at least 1,035,309 (feedback from any id is counted only once). That's mind boggling!
.
I can tell I'm a bit depressed lately by the contents of the mailbox. I've been shopping online. I do that when I feel like I need pampering. Shopping online is more satisfying than shopping in stores, because when packages arrive in the mail, or when the big brown or yellow trucks come up the driveway, it feels like someone sent me a gift. Somehow it gets disconnected from the money spent.
Some of the shopping has been on eBay. I hadn't visited eBay since the fall of 2005 (except once to buy something from a friend), but since last July I've been indulging far too much, in spurts.
There's a method to get the best deals on eBay. I don't understand people who bid early in an eBay auction. It's not at all like a live auction, when you want to register interest with the auctioneer so that you don't get left out when the bidding gets hot. Registering early interest on eBay is NOT a good thing, and it's completely unnecessary, if you understand automatic bidding. If you want to make sure the seller doesn't end the auction early, just ask a question. That tells the seller you're interested without alerting other bidders.
I'll see a nice sari, with three days to go on the auction, and six or seven bids in on it already, invariably from people with less than 80 in feedback count. They obviously don't understand eBay's automatic bidding and they're just bidding each other up. I don't bid until the last few seconds of the auction, and I almost always win at the lowest possible winning amount. If I had placed the same bid earlier, someone would have "nibbled" my bid all the way up.
(Bidding in the last few seconds is called "sniping", and it's despised by people who don't understand automatic bids. The explanation of automatic bidding is complicated, but once understood, the concept is simple.)
So I do a little research on the other bidders who have revealed their interest. I look at what they've bought ("won") lately, and how much they paid, how much they're willing to go for an item of this type. I look at what their interests seem to be. I look to see if they have a habit of "nibbling" up automatic bids. I look to see if they ever snipe.
And frankly, I look just because I'm snoopy and I want to know what they bought. Sometimes I find some good stuff, good sellers, that way.
One woman I researched today had a very strange buying history. She was buying all kinds of pure junk. Then I realized it was all very cheap junk, and she was getting it at the starting price (often very low) as the only bidder. It looks like she opens with the lowest bid on a LOT of junk (we're talking like $.50 and $1.25 shipping), and then either gets outbid, or wins for a pittance. She has bought and got feedback on about 50 items in the past two weeks. I suddenly realized that she isn't buying stuff - she's spending a little money to build a good feedback rating. I'll bet that if I look back in a month, I'll find her listing all that junk for sale, along with some of her own stuff that she wants to sell.
She's smart. A lot of people won't buy, especially expensive items, from someone who has less than 50 feedbacks, or less than 99% positive. Most people won't notice that her perfect feedback is all from buying piddly things.
She's the one I'd worry about. The sari she has bid on is already higher than she has paid for anything else. It's obvious she's smart, and she's specifically interested in this particular sari. This means I should bid very close to the end of the auction, leaving only seconds. Super snipe.
And that's the lure of eBay. Not only do I get "gifts" in the mail, but I get the thrill of the hunt, chase, and kill.
Of course, the question is, why do I need that boost now?
-------------------------------------
A sari? Yeah, I wear them occasionally. And where else can you get six yards of bordered silk for $25?
The best sari seller out there is Bee Patel [http://stores.ebay.com/Bee-Patels-Sari-Palace]. Her saris are always in perfect condition, described accurately, well photographed, and priced right. My only complaint is that she doesn't sell the sari together with the matching blouse (choli). They're separate auctions, and it's possible to win one and not the other, which is maddening.
--------------------------------------
Later: I was just wandering around eBay, and I found a seller, Everydaysource, who has a feedback count of 710202. That's over 700,000 individual eBay ids he has sold stuff to. Not 700,000 sales, the sales number is at least 1,035,309 (feedback from any id is counted only once). That's mind boggling!
.
1679 Not Hot, the movie
Monday, February 11, 2008
Reviews of the Paris Hilton film, "The Hottie and the Nottie", from http://www.metacritic.com/film/titles/hottieandthenottie?q=nottie:
Entertainment Weekly, Owen Gleiberman
The Farrelly brothers could burp out a movie funnier than The Hottie & the Nottie, a farce of corrupt stereotypes that's never more grotesque than when it pretends to be more than skin-deep.
Washington Post, Desson Thomson
Like Nate, we are mere Notties. And we are supposed to feel oh-so privileged for getting to watch Paris through the glass.
The Hollywood Reporter, Frank Scheck
Ultimately best suited for the confines of late-night cable.
New York Post, Kyle Smith
Great actors make the craft look easy. In the Paris Hilton comedy The Hottie and the Nottie, acting looks very, very difficult.
New York Daily News, Elizabeth Weitzman
You've got to admire Hilton's complete conviction in herself as the center of all that is beautiful and good. And maybe such unwavering self-regard is actually kind of hot. Or not.
Boston Globe, Ty Burr
You've seen dozens of movies like this on cable in the wee hours.
Inquirer, Carrie Rickey
Though Hilton may be a model, if her work in Hottie is any indication, she is no actress.
Rolling Stone, Peter Travers
That generous half star rating I tacked onto this comedy abomination is all for Paris Hilton. Come on, it takes guts (or gross dim-wittedness) to appear on screen again after "House of Wax."
Chicago Tribune, Jessica Reaves
Verdict: not so hot
ReelViews, James Berardinelli
A cinematic excursion so horrific that it's an insult to bad movies to call it a bad movie.
Variety, Dennis Harvey
Paris Hilton has already ushered a remarkable three features into the Internet Movie Database's "Bottom 100." The Hottie and the Nottie will make it an even four.
The Onion (A.V. Club), Keith Phipps
How is Paris Hilton in her first starring role to receive a national release? Pretty bad, actually. She's limited to a single, all-too-familiar expression of smug self-satisfaction, and she delivers her lines in a tone somewhere between "seductive" and "dish-soap commercial."
TV Guide, Maitland McDonagh
Preposterous, disingenuous, remarkably unfunny and genuinely distasteful.
Village Voice, Nathan Lee
Crass, shrill, disingenuous, tawdry, mean-spirited, vulgar, idiotic, boring, slapdash, half-assed, and very, very unfunny.
Miami Herald, Connie Ogle
The most astounding thing about this abysmal comedy -- aside from the fact the studio actually allowed critics within a mile of it -- is that it's so ghastly it is beneath even the meager dignity of Paris Hilton.
Los Angeles Times, Sam Adams
It's not like Paris Hilton to rise above her material, but The Hottie and the Nottie sinks so low that all she has to do is stand upright.
The New York Times, Jeannette Catsoulis
Custom designed for its smirking star (who is also an executive producer), this tasteless train wreck asks only that she preen and prance on cue.
Gee, these reviews actually make me want to see it. No, I'm serious. Very bad movies can be fun, especially when you can yell at them.
.
Reviews of the Paris Hilton film, "The Hottie and the Nottie", from http://www.metacritic.com/film/titles/hottieandthenottie?q=nottie:
Entertainment Weekly, Owen Gleiberman
The Farrelly brothers could burp out a movie funnier than The Hottie & the Nottie, a farce of corrupt stereotypes that's never more grotesque than when it pretends to be more than skin-deep.
Washington Post, Desson Thomson
Like Nate, we are mere Notties. And we are supposed to feel oh-so privileged for getting to watch Paris through the glass.
The Hollywood Reporter, Frank Scheck
Ultimately best suited for the confines of late-night cable.
New York Post, Kyle Smith
Great actors make the craft look easy. In the Paris Hilton comedy The Hottie and the Nottie, acting looks very, very difficult.
New York Daily News, Elizabeth Weitzman
You've got to admire Hilton's complete conviction in herself as the center of all that is beautiful and good. And maybe such unwavering self-regard is actually kind of hot. Or not.
Boston Globe, Ty Burr
You've seen dozens of movies like this on cable in the wee hours.
Inquirer, Carrie Rickey
Though Hilton may be a model, if her work in Hottie is any indication, she is no actress.
Rolling Stone, Peter Travers
That generous half star rating I tacked onto this comedy abomination is all for Paris Hilton. Come on, it takes guts (or gross dim-wittedness) to appear on screen again after "House of Wax."
Chicago Tribune, Jessica Reaves
Verdict: not so hot
ReelViews, James Berardinelli
A cinematic excursion so horrific that it's an insult to bad movies to call it a bad movie.
Variety, Dennis Harvey
Paris Hilton has already ushered a remarkable three features into the Internet Movie Database's "Bottom 100." The Hottie and the Nottie will make it an even four.
The Onion (A.V. Club), Keith Phipps
How is Paris Hilton in her first starring role to receive a national release? Pretty bad, actually. She's limited to a single, all-too-familiar expression of smug self-satisfaction, and she delivers her lines in a tone somewhere between "seductive" and "dish-soap commercial."
TV Guide, Maitland McDonagh
Preposterous, disingenuous, remarkably unfunny and genuinely distasteful.
Village Voice, Nathan Lee
Crass, shrill, disingenuous, tawdry, mean-spirited, vulgar, idiotic, boring, slapdash, half-assed, and very, very unfunny.
Miami Herald, Connie Ogle
The most astounding thing about this abysmal comedy -- aside from the fact the studio actually allowed critics within a mile of it -- is that it's so ghastly it is beneath even the meager dignity of Paris Hilton.
Los Angeles Times, Sam Adams
It's not like Paris Hilton to rise above her material, but The Hottie and the Nottie sinks so low that all she has to do is stand upright.
The New York Times, Jeannette Catsoulis
Custom designed for its smirking star (who is also an executive producer), this tasteless train wreck asks only that she preen and prance on cue.
Gee, these reviews actually make me want to see it. No, I'm serious. Very bad movies can be fun, especially when you can yell at them.
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Sunday, February 10, 2008
1678 Debt Enlargement
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Wow! Amazing news! Hard to believe! You know "Smiling Bob", the idiot of the Enzyte commercials? The ones where all the women look like '50s housewives? Well, turns out the stuff doesn't work! No kidding! It's a scam!
The advertising and sales departments made up all the testimonials and studies. Wow! Who'd a thunk it!
And that's not the worst.
Folks figure if the company is giving out free trials, then it must work, since if it didn't, nobody would order more, and they'd go broke. Right?
Wrong.
If you called to get the free trial, they wanted checking account information, or a credit card number. Even though you never authorized it, they signed you up for automatic delivery, and before the free trial was even over, they had hit your account for another month or two's supply. They'd keep doing that, and it was next to impossible to cancel.
They guaranteed satisfaction, but if you said it didn't work and you wanted to return the pills and get your money back, they'd ask for a notarized statement from your doctor saying that it didn't work. In the meantime, they kept charging your account.
So, the company officers are in federal court. One of the ex-officers is testifying against them.
The Center for Science in the Public Interest (CSPI) filed a complaint with the FTC on September 23, 2004. That's more than three years ago. Jury selection started the middle of last month. Now they're in federal court, charged with stuff like committing wire and mail fraud, money laundering, and misbranding.
And - the commercials are still on, and that's ok, presumption of innocence and all, but what confuses me is that they're still offering the free trial. If they're not still making unauthorized debits to checking accounts and credit cards, how are they avoiding bankruptcy?
Unless ... it actually works ....
.
Wow! Amazing news! Hard to believe! You know "Smiling Bob", the idiot of the Enzyte commercials? The ones where all the women look like '50s housewives? Well, turns out the stuff doesn't work! No kidding! It's a scam!
The advertising and sales departments made up all the testimonials and studies. Wow! Who'd a thunk it!
And that's not the worst.
Folks figure if the company is giving out free trials, then it must work, since if it didn't, nobody would order more, and they'd go broke. Right?
Wrong.
If you called to get the free trial, they wanted checking account information, or a credit card number. Even though you never authorized it, they signed you up for automatic delivery, and before the free trial was even over, they had hit your account for another month or two's supply. They'd keep doing that, and it was next to impossible to cancel.
They guaranteed satisfaction, but if you said it didn't work and you wanted to return the pills and get your money back, they'd ask for a notarized statement from your doctor saying that it didn't work. In the meantime, they kept charging your account.
So, the company officers are in federal court. One of the ex-officers is testifying against them.
The Center for Science in the Public Interest (CSPI) filed a complaint with the FTC on September 23, 2004. That's more than three years ago. Jury selection started the middle of last month. Now they're in federal court, charged with stuff like committing wire and mail fraud, money laundering, and misbranding.
And - the commercials are still on, and that's ok, presumption of innocence and all, but what confuses me is that they're still offering the free trial. If they're not still making unauthorized debits to checking accounts and credit cards, how are they avoiding bankruptcy?
Unless ... it actually works ....
.
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